New Snow in Summer

Lift up shirt.
Stomach check.
I have been doing this for years.
Evaluating myself first thing in the morning.
Suck in stomach.  Look for ribs.  Ribs are a sign of success.
Not emaciated, skeletal ribs - just a shadow of them under the skin - just a hint of rib is good.
I see it.  The sign that I am on track.

But I can't believe this like I used to.
I can't stick to this tiny orbit anymore.
I need to swing wide and see more.






















Last night I snuggled 5 kids into a down comforter.
The 2 two-year olds escaped and catapulted from couch to ottoman.
Pepper and Finn.  They put on quite a show.
I sat with my 9 year-old Sophie and 2 babies watching.
We laughed until we cried tears and could hardly breath.
Sophie's mouth hung open in a still shot with no sound coming out.
Clearly the performers were hilarious beyond belief.

Finn wrapped Pepper in a rainbow plastic slinky and announced she was his dog.
She acted accordingly and crawled around barking.
Occasionally she'd turn into a horse and jump around, which actually made her look more like a frog.

The Black Stallion played in the background.
A boy and a black horse, silhouetted against the beach.
And I was struck by the innocence with which I am surrounded everyday.
It will not always be like this.
They will grow up and find conflict.  They will question all this.  They will wonder if the love they knew as children can actually exist.
Right now it is held pure.
Like snow that has never been stepped in.  It catches all light and reflects.  There are no shadows.

I could miss this.
If I am not mindful.

I know I can't preserve it.
There is no Mason jar that can hold all that I see and hear and feel in one simple day.
I can only take it in and recognize it.
I can honor it when I see it for someone else.
I can always smile at mothers and children and mean it.