I just had one of those days. The kind of days where you’ve almost got the baby back to sleep after thirty minutes of shushing and two diaper changes, and the phone rings loud and proud and your efforts are rendered useless. The days where that wee tyke decides a couple of thirty minute naps oughta justabout do. The days where your firstborn decides it’s time to pick on brother, knock him over, see if he’ll cry if he scratches him on top of the head, even throws a book at him.

Good thing it was a soft toy.


You know the days… where it feels like everyone wants to ask for your help with something and you sure wish love was never ever ever spelled T-I-M-E.

The baby who’s only pee-peed in your direction twice in his life, six months ago, decides to give you his third ever squirt when you’re aiming for a quick change because dinner is ready and on the table.

Your wonderful mother offers to watch the little ones so you can get in a quick gym session, and a wee ways into the workout your head is pounding with such a headache you want to give up and head home.

In the brief moment where you’ve gone to the bathroom for two Tylenol and you’re on a search mission for your water bottle, the older one is complaining you’ve forgotten to deliver part of what he needs for his activity at the kitchen table and he’s strapped into a booster seat and can’t get down to get it himself, and the phone rings and during that conversation the baby wakes up from a thirty minute snooze and you were trying hard to just get started on dinner but now you’ll have to do something with the baby and ten minutes have gone by and those two Tylenol are still in your palm waiting for a glass of water.

But throughout the day the reminders were constant: Stay in the Moment.

A card arrived in the mail in perfect timing, filled to the brim with words of affirmation I needed to hear that had nothing to do with being a good wife or mother.

And as the roller coaster of the day continued the baby offered countless sweet faces and smiles — priceless glimpses into what heaven might be like: Without guile. Beautiful innocence and profound joy.

I put the Bear down for a nap and as I leaned in close he stared into my eyes, told me he liked them, and asked what colour they were, then touched and complemented my hair, and was so sweet and gentle it was hard to believe he’d had a stern talking to just a couple of hours before.

My brother, concerned for the boys whose toys are still in South Africa sent a gift for each of them; the baby’s arrived yesterday and the Bear’s today.

My Mom was willing to rock a teething baby, and ending up doing so for about an hour, so that I could hit the treadmill with a book to uplift my soul.

And in all this, God met me today.

The first song out of iTunes to help me through dinner reminded me that it is all about Him. And the second song reminded me of the wonderful God who is the antonym of me, but whose precious, grace-filled redemption is like a beautiful flower pushing its way up through dirt. {Me being the dirt, you know.} And there was God.

I sprinkled a little plate of olive oil with balsamic for dipping bread, and the tiny scattered dots of balsamic found their way to one another to make a perfectly happy face. Not just smiling. Laughing. And there was God.

I got an email from a friend who is facing several very difficult situations at the moment, and I was reminded how small these frustrations really are. I decided to turn my thoughts away from my selfish focus, write her some words of encouragement, and pray for her. And there was God.

And as the day was coming to a close, these words of mine from eight or nine months ago found me again:

It seems in my case, the discomfort of being pregnant can distract me from the miracle that’s happening because of it. And I think life is a lot like that: the discomfort of the moment that we’re walking through distracts us from the glorious birth around the corner. And it also distracts us from the mundane-beautiful of the moments we should be savouring, because it won’t be like this for long.

And there was God.

And those were exactly the words I needed to hear.

Love it. Live it. Look for Him in it. You always only ever have today.