Last night I found myself putting a little three-week old to sleep in my arms. I could hear her mommy upstairs with her other children, tucking them in - stories and all. The downstairs where I stayed was still and quiet. Mostly quiet coming from this little angel of a baby.
The downstairs showed remnants of their day: papers drawn on, burp cloths in random places, dinner to be put away, legos strewn across the floor. How the house reminded me of mine after a typical day of living in it.
After leaving my family that night to lend a hand here, I couldn't deny the whole house felt so sacred and reverent. Love and kindness and goodnight kisses over and over again upstairs could be heard, a patient mother after a long day coming downstairs to nurse her baby once again, to then prepare her home for a day of doing it all over again. There wasn't anything spectacular to be seen but everything was so deeply felt there.
My hour of holding little Miss Anna was so precious. So was the simple conversation with my dear friend when everyone had fallen asleep. We talked of making quilts and babies and day-to-day activities. All I know and was reminded of is how precious motherhood is and how far-reaching its influence is. I witnessed it so clearly last night in a house not too far from mine...
Many happy wishes for you this weekend!
the sleepy time gal