I’ve learned that one of my favorite parts of my morning routine is waking up the kids. I love walking into their quiet rooms and seeing them curled up and comfy with relaxed faces. I love rubbing their backs and finger-combing their hair until they stretch and turn and give me a sleepy grin.
I love those sleepy grins.
Wish I could get a picture of those grins. But even I can accept that no one wants to wake up to a camera in their face.
Mostly I fear retaliation.
That waking up a teenager is a whole different ballgame.
That I thrive on routine. I learned that if I don’t have my normal routine, that I do pretty well if I have a rough sketch plan of the day—a framework to build on.
But that in the absence of both at a frequent rate that I have a hard time coping with stress. Correction. I don’t cope well at all.
That when friends are sharing about their own struggles or convictions, it often speaks directly to my heart. Like when a friend shared the verse in Psalms 118, “This is the day which the Lord has made; Let us rejoice and be glad in it” and explained that it was about making a choice and not just hoping they’d suddenly feel glad or happy. It was exactly what I needed to hear at that moment.
That when you’ve pulled a muscle, tendon, or thingamajiggy in your neck and can’t turn your head a certain way, you WISH you could pinpoint the cause so that you’ll NEVER DO IT AGAIN!
That sometimes you just need some alone time and a good cry.
That laughter and hugs are always the best medicine (AFTER the good cry and alone time).
That when you’re too tired to come up with a family fun project, that your brilliant kids will come up with one for you.
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