Rhythm.

Each day has its own.

I’m not always very good at embracing the slower tempos. But I think — dare I say it? — I’m learning.

The last few days have been runny-nosed, congested (which means vomiting up phlegm, yuck), and feverish for my littlest guy. That means my goals have been reduced to feeding and clothing my family. I’m finding how to fit the little necessary duties into five happy minutes here and there — but not to work myself into a productive frenzy every time the boys are both happy. Because really, it’s the tempo of my own heart that I need to reign in, need to slow down so that it can find the rhythm of today.

I naturally tend to fight it, insisting that I can still get so much done, can still do my own little projects. It’s sort of like fighting a horse, rather than just moving with them: you find yourself ridiculously sore at the end of the day.

It’s so much nicer to realize that some of the days that the Lord has made are meant to be slow. And when I move with the pace He’s asking for, I often find there’s time for special things that I never can fit in when I’m the one setting the pace:

— watching a whole movie with my little Jameson. He loves it when I sit with him, and I never do.
— reading not just a few books, but LOTS of books together.
— playing with William and making him laugh.
— getting out the finger paints and creating little masterpieces.
— enjoying homemade bread and not caring that there’s not much else for dinner. (Ryan didn’t complain. I think he’d eat fresh bread for dinner anytime!)
— being thankful for the rain, because it’s not interfering with my busy schedule, anyway.

The onions are sauteed: time for me to get back to my sauce. Yes, it’s a pasta-for-dinner night. (It would be pb&j, but the bread was all but consumed last night!)