I’m just fortunate enough to be watching the sunrise this morning with 3 of the most beautiful girls in the world – my 3 youngest.
Meghan and Ayda are curled together as I’ve nested them under a comforter eight times larger than themselves on the sofa opposite me, taking turns reading a board book to each other about two puppies named Sally and Lucy who have just become friends.
Gwyneth lies here in the crook of my left arm, swaddled tightly in a receiving blanket, having finally worn herself, and a pacifier, and her mother out. On occasion, she squirms and sticks out her tongue, then squeaks a bit, just before letting out all the sigh you could find in her tiny lungs.
How could God come to terms with making people so dependent on so much comfort? He seems to enjoy our discomfort in some ways enough to bring it so continually, only so he can have the joy of seeing us comforted again.
Maybe it’s bit more complicated than that. The evidence is fairly convincing though that we do love our comforts, as simple as they are. Thank God for them, and for the longing for them.
With my free hand, I’ve been reading Wendell Berry‘s book, A Place on Earth, a simple story about simple people that will all at once create a yearning inside you for writing, and for home, and for loving more deeply – loving what you’ve got more than what you’ve thought you wanted.
It comforts me almost effortlessly, along with 3 pairs of dark brown eyes peering out of their warm places.
Good morning sunshine.