home bound days.

I spend the majority of my days with six people, all younger and smaller than me by varying degrees.

(And as we’ve been a one-car family for thirteen days or more, it seems I have been spending lots of days at home, with no transportation at my disposal.)

There have been moments in these recent days that I have felt thrilled to spend my mornings knee deep in tropospheres and the ozone layer, pleased to read novels and eat snacks with such pleasant companions.

And there have also been moments in the recent days that I have felt the desperate need for fresh air, to finish a project without interruption or to sleep ten more minutes in my warm bed.

But, for some reason I cannot take credit for in the least and can only declare it to be a pure and kind act of a gracious God, I have spent all of these home-bound days with a vision more clear than my circumstances would seem to dictate.

With a heart more open to the needs of my children than usual.

With a joy that has transcended this momentary setback.

And all I know about life is this:

it is momentary.

And all I know about childhood is this:

it is supersonic.

And all I know about any of this is that all I can hold is Right Now.

It’s a sermon I have preached before and over and again.

And it is a sermon I hope to keep preaching to myself as long as I need to hear it.

Which I imagine will be for as long as I live.