Tonight I had a few extra moments with three of my four children at bedtime. I'm glad I didn't rush through it, as I normally would.
They had been in bed for about half an hour and I actually thought they all might be sleeping as I finished cleaning up the kitchen, but I heard Annie on the stairs. I dried my hands and walked upstairs with her, then followed her onto the bottom bunk bed. We whispered in the glow of a princess night-light. Then I rubbed the back of her hand, still soft and round in the early months after her third birthday. I thought about how quickly that toddler hand will lose the dimples and bony knuckles will appear. It won't be long until she'll be dressing, brushing teeth, and even fixing her hair independently (she already does give these tasks her best effort). In the darkness she held her "Toddler Mulan" doll close and I smiled to see her dark curls mix with the doll's curls across her cheek.
This season, when the helpless outnumber the helpful, will soon pass. Prayerfully, I'll treasure these moments in my heart, and be content in all these seasons of mothering my brood.
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