~ to have a sweet visit this morning with Mariana, Jane's new college best friend. Driving this darling, happy girl to the airport so she can fly home to spend the holidays with her loving family in Portugal. What an angel and a delight she is.
~ remembering that dusting and vacuuming can be very therapeutic.
~a clean bathroom feels so nice. Why don't I do this more often?
~to vocalize my love.
~taking a quiet moment in the busy-ness of the day to open that treasured family Christmas album my mom tucks beneath her tree. Those images captured of my own childhood. Tender tears filling these eyes. (This is an everyday occurrence with me as you probably know by now.) Heart swell and heart ache all at the same time. (Is that even possible?) Remembering the magic. Just like it was yesterday. Almost like seeing it for the first time, through these mothering eyes of my own, all the effort Mom put forth year after year to make Christmastime so special.
The five matching homemade dresses, nightgowns and robes for us girls. The never to be forgotten, four foot tall Barbie Dream House she miraculously created with carpet, furniture, wallpaper, and everything- an absolute miracle. The sewn cloth dolls to hug and to love- and there were multiples each and every year. The fragrant gingerbread men and women hanging on our "cookie tree" next to the front door, the dozens of them waiting to be plucked off and offered to the visiting children of our neighborhood. The homey touches only she could create that made our home feel so cozy and warm...
How did she do it all?
This, the work of her hands and of her heart.
And now tonight, opening our own family Christmas album. The early years of these now growing up too fast children of mine. Realizing more and more how swift the years go by. This time that will never stand still. Understanding that they won't be my little ones forever. Hoping that what I've tried to provide has been enough to fill their souls.
Feeling deep down in my heart
that it has.