Multitude on Mondays ~ Big Little Things

I love a long weekend.  I especially love one that is filled to the brim with a well-balanced assortment of busy, quiet, fun, stillness, laughter, quiet, music, missing and togetherness.  This weekend has had a little bit of everything.  And I wove my way through this weekend with a renewed awareness of how quickly this season of my life is moving.  And I made sure to notice the little things, knowing they are truly the big things...

I'm thankful, truly thankful, for these big little things that are such gifts:



201.  The way fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies packed up to send on a trip can speak L.O.V.E.
202.  The way my 10-year old can stretch and rub her eyes when I wake her up and look just like she did as a 2-year old.
203.  The combination of brisk wind and hot sun on my face.
204.  The feel of that first drink of cold water in the morning, how you can feel it go all the way down.
205.  Talking to my girls on the phone, and hearing how their voices sound so little...and so the same.
206.  Spooning.
207.  The brief moment when there are no dirty clothes waiting to be washed.
208.  A son calling, without being asked, to let me know he arrived.
209.  That my son will say "I miss you too," even if he really doesn't.
210.  Watching the careful selection of a new Bible, and the utter delight it brings.

211.  Watching a cat in the window chattering to the birds outside.  Spring's comin'!
212.  The thrill of the possibility of even a dusting of snow.
213.  An extra hour of sleep.
214.  The hum and whoosh of the dishwasher.  That, to me, is the sound of being done with the responsibility part of my day.
215.  The combination of a bright blue sky and the sound of a lawn mower.
216.  The feel of the cold tile on the bottom of my feet after a run.
217.  Being able to sit in a beautiful hall, close my eyes, and be surrounded with the sound of beautiful music from amazingly talented kids.  Fills my senses.
218.  Seeing un-jeweled teeth for the first time in two and a half years!
219.  Watching my child laugh so hard she can't catch her breath.
220.  Going to bed at night knowing that each of my kids is sound asleep at home.  Where they belong.  For now.