Each morning that I wake up, that I feel small feet pressed up against the back of my legs, that I hear a small voice say, "Hi, mom," is a gift.
Each new sunrise that brings on the making of lunches and gathering of socks and hunting down of lost shoes is a gift.
Each breakfast of toast and coffee wolfed down, while pushing children out the door to school calling out things like, "Tie your shoes" and "Use a tissue" and "Have a good day" is a gift.
Each morning running the laundry and emptying the dryer, gathering up legos out of the crevices in the couch, sifting through papers and writing lists is a gift.
Each 10:00 hour with a cup of tea, and more laundry in hand, and sitting down to write a few thoughts, answer e-mails, pulling my hair out while I do bills is a gift.
Each time that I get to hug Scott and say, "Life is crazy" and he says "It is crazy" and hugs me back is a gift.
Each call that I have with a friend, when we can kick our shoes off and laugh and remember awkward college moments or nursing fiascos or just ruminate about how much God has done in us - the ones who can never quite seem to get it together is a gift.
Each hard thing that comes up and smacks me in the forehead and reminds me that I need to talk to Jesus more because he likes me and wants to have a relationship with me is a gift.
Each afternoon with the homework and the snack making and weeping over the homework and more snack making is a gift.
Each time the mail man arrives with Christmas cards and coupons and bills and even a jury duty summons is a gift.
Each dinner with its meat and veggie sides, with the laughter and the potty talk and the "Do I need to ask you to leave the table?" talks are a gift.
Each bed time routine with the 47 getting out of bed "Can I get a drink?" questions, and strong hugs around the neck and a kiss on the nose and re-tucking in is a gift.
Each evening when I collapse on the coach onto the days laundry and complain about how fast the day goes and how little I accomplished is a gift.
Each moment spent on the couch with Scott, talking about our day, watching tv, praying for more grace is a gift.
And each night as I crawl into a warm bed and think about what the next day holds is a gift.
Sometimes I forget. I forget what God hands me each day as the sun cracks the sky.
I forget to thank him that I am living and breathing and having my being in him.
I just keep thinking "Why is there a fly in my kitchen buzzing around my head - that is so irritating?" or "Will my kids ever obey me...ever?" or "Why do Scott and still forget to tell each other things after 13 years of marriage?" or "If I have to pay one more bill I will officially lose it!" (Like it already hasn't been lost.....)
I forget to see the holy in the ordinary and the beauty in the chaos.
The whole hodge podge of it all, this life, the good, bad and ugly, is a gift.
Because I'm alive.