Monday, July 16, 2012


His bedroom door opens and I cringe.

Anger almost wants to begin boiling like water for coffee. 

We've stayed up much too late again and he isn't the child to sleep in, no matter the hour of bedtime.
Life is too exciting for this child.

I get this, how sometimes the thrill of a new day is sometimes too exciting for sleep. 

...even if it's a stay-home kind of day with no plans cast on the calendar. 

A few days ago I told The Boy that grass sure doesn't grow under his feet.

I get up at 4:30 each day to write and work out. To begin my worship in the *whirl and twirl*.

It was nearly a brand new day when I closed my eyes for rest last night and yet my body woke up with the same amount of sleep I usually have. Early still came, though at a bit later hour. 

Morning's are easy for The Boy, just like his Momma. 

He returns to his bedroom after a visit to the bathroom and comes downstairs at precisely 7:00. He follows the rule not to be up until then. 

Entering the living room where I sit eyeing him as he nears, he knows I'll be disappointed that he didn't sleep late. And I can't help it. Because Momma's know sleep is important. Rest is best.

I nearly fall out of my chair with humility as I hear the words he says.
     "I am glad I didn't get up earlier, even though I know it was early still." 

He counts grace. 

Sitting close on my lap I count, too. 

I tell him that being tired today reminds us of why we stayed up last night--how visiting family and being together matters most. 

Counting {Grace} changes Every. Thing.

It isn't long at all before he's not listening. Thinking of something else. Noticing something off to the side.

The Boy's attention is scattered these days. Life is a bowl of ice cream to be devoured. And his bowl is never empty. 

Library books excite him. And he's thinking of being a history teacher and a scientist, while also a professional lacrosse player and a professional hockey player. He thinks a hundred thoughts a minute.

Children are so innocent, yet incredibly wise. 

I think of his zest and how he adds flavor to my life. Sweet and noticeable. 

He's up early and I tell him I'm glad. 


{Grace} Unwrapped...

...the intimacy of morning talk... we share that same joy of early...

...the ways his voice carries throughout my day...

...his thought sharing... saying good morning or hello isn't as important as story sharing...

...and how I see his story telling is a *hello*, an invitation to his world...


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  1. So sweet, Amy. I have an early riser too, and I kind of really don't like when he gets up too early (7:30 is our rule around here), because it infringes on my quiet morning time. I feel terrible admitting that. But it's true.

  2. Michelle, I admit the same! *My* time is so treasured.