Apple slices to start the day.

Morning greetings, knees bent to pray.

Broken trucks and tender hearts.

The bucket of millions of Lego parts.

Pictures to draw and games to play.

Steps to take and new words to say.

Papers to write and calculus tests.

Everyone trying to do their best.

Balancing budgets and blocks of time.

Learning to share and not to whine.

Scribbles and squabbles and scrapes to bandage.

Socks to sort and schedules to manage.

And that one child who leaves the trail of socks . . .

and the one who tornados Duplo blocks.

Showing up with grace and smiles and cheers.

Sharing our struggles, releasing our fears.

Meals to cook, a kitchen to clean.

Questions to ask and hymns to sing.

Laughter and laundry and lullabies.

Conversations to have and mid-night cries.

One day holds so many things –

so many puzzling, beautiful, mundane things.

As fleeting as the unseen wind,

as fragile as my baby’s skin.

A gift I’ll never receive again,

a chest of treasures, jewels of joy within

TODAY.

A sacred collection of heartbeats and hours.

Oxygen fills lungs as Sufficient Grace showers.