nothing commonplace about this life.

I suppose we have a lot of catching up to do.

I've been avoiding this place, though I'm not quite sure why. I go through cycles, I've noticed, times where I need some distance from the place that makes all things public. It isn't that I resent the act of sharing; in fact, I thrive on it in some odd way.

I am still learning exactly what it is about this space that keeps me coming back -- this act of putting my thoughts on paper (so to speak), sending them into the abyss, and waiting for them return to me in the form of your comments, your emails, your encouragements, your acknowledgement that you, too, have been where I am or where I'm headed. Even the silence that can follow is comforting in its own way. It's like having a friend in the room, one who understands how words aren't always necessary in communicating solidarity.

I see your clicks. I know you're there. And even though I don't quite understand why we gather here, the small lot of us, I am glad that we do. So, thank you for being here. Thank you for reading. Thank you for being patient with me.

Whew. I'm glad we had this talk.

Moving on...

Sorting through my severely disorganized iPhoto folders, I realize just how much I should tell you. I'll get there (or not), slowly but surely (or maybe not). It's too soon to tell, really. What I can tell you is that the next few posts are going to involve a plethora of Instagrams.

I am an Instagram addict.

It feels good to say that out loud.

I can also tell you of a thought consistently running through my mind these past few weeks - these weeks filled with laundry and cleaning and answering to rapid-fire calls of "Moooommmyyyyy" and attempting (unsuccessfully) to convince two 18-month-old boys that beating each other on the head with toys is not an acceptable leisure activity.

That thought is this:

These days may be routine.
These days may lack luster.
These days may run together until they are indistinguishable from one another.
However,
These days are among the most important days of my life,
These efforts among the most important I will ever put forth,
These little hearts, the most tender and precious I will ever encounter.
And so,
These days are not to be taken lightly.
These things that fill them are not commonplace.*
These moments are sacred, ordained by the very hand of God.

Hmm.

Poopy diapers. Teething cries. Busted lips and broken toys and lost teddy bears. Ordained by the very hand of God.

Mountains of laundry. Counters full of dirty dishes. Temper tantrums, red eyes, crossed arms. Ordained by the very hand of God?

Tiny arms squeezing my neck. Pencil-drawn pictures of spiders. Carefully cut paper glued just so. Boisterous laughter that becomes hiccups.

Mistakes made and mistakes forgiven. Love felt and love learned. Ordained by the very hand of God.

When I allow the truth to sink in deep, it knocks the breath out of me.

How is this so easy to forget?

It reminds me of the saying, how does it go? We'll only pass this way once. Something like that.

It's true. I believe all of the above. It's acting as if I believe that is the hard part.

What about you?

We'll talk more about this later. I hear two boys calling for Mama.

*Thanks to Ann Voskamp for this reminder. She says, 

"Motherhood is a hallowed place because children are not commonplace. Co-laboring over the sculpting of souls is a sacred vocation, a humbling privilege. Never forget." 

You can find more nuggets from Ann in the printables (pictured above) that she posted for Mother's Day. If you'd like, you can download them here and here.