“I have always been caught by the pull of the unremarkable, by the easily missed, infinitely nourishing beauty of the mundane.”
― Tana French
They meld together, our days. As if they're some liquid seeping into our skin. Nights and days and moments and hours. Less like the ocean and more like a river. An ever-moving current that simultaneously pulls us down and propels us forward. Trying to find our footing in all this is a beautiful struggle, cool on our skin and hot in our lungs. We're surviving, we're thriving, we're alive here.
And it's good.
There's this chaos of his toys swimming on the carpet in his room. There's the ritual of a morning mug of coffee warming my palms. There's evening light and slow mornings in bed and the curve of his cheeks when he's asleep.
These little and big things and in-between things.
All these 'good and perfect gifts'.
We're here in the thick glory of it all; watching November slip quietly into Winter's cold embrace and realizing how much you can savor beauty in the barren seasons. We're here struggling to scratch out a life, we're fighting a good fight.
And above all, we're learning to surrender our course to Jesus while holding out hearts to be filled with His grace.
These are the days.