These days where there is no quiet.
These days where there is no space.
These days where their perfect little hands reach out for mine constantly.
These days where there adorable tiny feet follow mine around one small room over, and over, again.
My love for them seems so torn between selfishness of desiring my own calm, still, life and not being able to get enough of them and their slobbery kisses.
These days point me to the Father’s love.
How often I cry out to Him & He never tires of it.
How this space that I am in belongs to Him & He longs for me to fill it and know it and love it and explore it.
How I should reach out to Him constantly.
How I wish my feet would walk humbly after His over, and over, again.
His love for me is life-giving in the middle of these days.