Our lives have been busy lately. Business has been hectic, company has been steady, and my mom has been out of her house (and in ours) because of a bathroom remodel that left fumes.
Wednesday night Dave worked all night and mom slept on the couch. I tucked her in about 8:30, after her long work day, and proceeded to my homemaking duties. I steel cut my oats and put them to soak. I put my beans to soak. I walked two miles on the treadmill and read CS Lewis reasoning out natural vs. supernatural in Miracles. I went outside and took care of the dog and unplugged all the Christmas lights. I checked emails, completed my bedtime rituals in the bathroom, and headed upstairs, only pausing to make sure all the doors were locked, candles blown out, and tree unplugged.
Passing through the living room to the stairs I saw my mom sleeping soundly and I paused. It was in the pause I heard it. The undercurrent that I hadn't been able to hear above my noise. The quiet music of delight, the melody of gratitude, that shadows my movements, accompanies my steps. My heart swelled to it. I went over and kissed the blond hair with grey underneath. Then I went upstairs and did the same thing on four other little foreheads, the rhythm still flowing audibly. I wondered how many times Mom had kissed my forehead when I was a little girl. How many years would it be until I would be on Avonlea's couch with her lips caressing my head?
And more importantly, would I be blond?
I went into my room and started my study of Philippians. A commentary said something about how much we can learn from Paul if we apprentice ourselves to the book of Philippians. Ahhh there's something I can relate to. Apprenticeship is vital in my husband's business. One of his employees is leaving in the spring. Dave wants to hire someone to be apprenticed under him because he is such a good, diligent worker. The better the teacher, the better the apprentice.
I thought of my little Rose. This week I yelled at her in frustration of her repeated request for crackers. I exclaimed, "Rose! I have no gluten-free crackers! Do you understand? I have none to give you!"
She replied, "Well....praise the Lord."
"What did you say?"
"I said what you say, 'Praise the Lord.'"
The song of gratitude that was sung above my cradle haunts my steps. The kisses then, begot kisses now. A lifetime of love taught by God, modeled in parents, siblings, friends, teachers, pastors, and children has resulted in another generation of Christ followers.
Little apprentices learning the business of life in Christ.
I finished my musing and writing and climbed into bed. The melody in my mind softened into a lullaby and I slept to it's tune.