Sometimes, no mosttimes, this house and our days feel so ordinary. One morning looks much like the next and it is fine but hard to feel much excitement.
But today my heart bursts with thanks and pride and joy and awe as I watch this boy that is first His before he is mine. He gathers all three littles around his shaggy head, asking which of the cartoon character chairs they prefer. He confirms that they can all see the pictures before beginning to read his rendition of the story. When one of them points out that he is using the wrong word, he gently explains that he doesn't actually know how to read and he's doing his best and that's okay too. I swear he's older than five today.
Thank you, Papa, thank you for the gift that is Niko. Thank you that every so often this very ordinary place becomes holy ground and I can sense your glory so much closer than I would have thought in my self-absorbed distraction only moments before. You are the God with a years-long habit of appearing in glory and making holy that which, by all accounts, is the most ordinary of ordinaries.
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