18 August, 2013


The house is entirely quiet and it's nice right now because once we hit four weeks into this journey, something happened.

It was as if my children all cried at once we've had enough. One stopped sleeping through the night and one learned how to throw a tantrum and I had to start keeping a spoon within arms' reach.

I'm not a decisive person, and somedays I would give myself a headache trying to decide if it was disobedience or confusion or does she just need her father?

Thirteen. The number of days left until my sweet husband returns for us.

This is his last full week of work and he travels to Paris on Friday and the weekend after he travels to us. This is how I calculate everything.

I'm a little bit tired as I write this. My baby woke more last night than she ever did as a newborn. And when the sun came up she was still fussing and the big kids woke and it was breakfast time.

I took a nap after serving them some blueberry yoghurt and woke rejuvenated and my baby was singing a beautiful song.

His mercies are new every morning.

She went to sleep after lunch and I had precious quiet time with my son while my daughter sat next to her grandpa and picked out twinkle twinkle little star on the piano. Later they laid together on my stomach and asked for back scratches before nap time and when I asked if they loved me they chimed, "yess!" as if I was silly for asking and who made them? God.

I am so blessed.

Thirteen days. In light of forty-one, it's nothing.

I can't believe how fast the time has flown. Once again, I am surprised at how we've been sustained. I'm surprised at the peace we've felt and how right this is. Because it is right, almost how much easier it has been.

Thirteen days.

"You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life. . ."