posted in: on being a mom, the Dahls | 0

I’ve been on a blogging hiatus lately. Too many other piles on my desk and in my inbox. Too many pictures to be edited while clients wait patiently. Too many little hands grabbing and needing and begging mommy to come and play. But today was a bit on the rough side, starting overslept, with a grumpy baby who is just not interested in scrambled egg yolks and a sweet four year old’s constant question: “Can we do something fun together?” And I remembered that there was a time when writing helped. It fosters gratitude as I recount stories of my sweet babies who are growing way too fast. It reminds me that I am in fact learning – that there are grown up thoughts in there somewhere, hiding under the baby chants and rhymes. So I decided to just restart today. Blogging resumed.

Today looked like this. October 4th, with snow blasting us in the face:

Sometimes it’s the silliest thing that put me in a funk. All summer long it was a spider. If I found one. more. spider. in our house it was enough to push me over the edge. Today it was the weather. Lamentations about the state of Minnesota (North Dakota) and the wind and the cold and the pending doom of being stranded at home all culminated at approximately 5:45am when I made the conscious decision to ignore my alarm clock. My focus quickly narrows and I feel sufficiently sorry for myself.

But then there are moments like these – Hadley, suddenly emerging as a big kid, with a hole in her smile and totally able to cut and glue and create all by herself:

And this girl who managed to end up looking like this while she sat and played in the bathroom as I showered:

Yesterday, Hadley and I marveled at the clear, fall sunrise. It looked a little different than it did this morning. I thought of this quote from G.K. Chesterton (below). And yesterday I planned to come and blog that. But then today happened, and all the childish requests to “do it again” were not cute and sweet but actually rather annoying. The laundry is still in piles, Adrienne is taking a third nap, and we’re eating lunch leftovers for dinner.

So here’s to appreciating the sweetness of childlike repetition and a God who never tires. And a prayer that God would use my own children to remind me of his never-ceasing goodness and patience towards me.

“A child kicks its legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life. Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, Do it again; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough… It is possible that God says every morning, Do it again, to the sun; and every evening, Do it again, to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike: it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”