Another adventure comes to a close and the final tendrils of golden light kiss your forehead gently. The day bids you good-bye and evening invites you to come and set a spell, to tell of where you’ve been, to tell your story.

Perhaps you recall the day’s moments that you leave behind. The squeals of laughter and delight at something said or done by your invisible friend. The design and beginning discovery of engineering and physics in the safety of daddy’s joy and teaching as you build an invention together. The sweet whispering of I love you in four hugs and six kisses just before you leave to grocery shop.

Or maybe, your contemplate the blessings of being wrapped now in love and golden light and memory. The blessing of brushing back a stray hair and kissing the sleepy face of your little one already drowsing as you carry her to bed. The blessing of the pressure of little arms wrapped around your neck as you whisper goodnight and hold on for one moment longer than you need to. The blessing of realizing that two little girls are growing up and it really sometimes is faster than you would like.

in the fading light of day
in the fading light of day

We draw near each other and to the One who made this day with us in mind.

I whisper a prayer, the secrets of my heart, spilling out the joy and discontent in one long, tangled bramble of gratefulness and contriteness. Two sides of the same coin and me, the only one who can choose upon which I will focus. And so I spill it all, leaving all manner of petty complaint to be swept up with the crumbs and dirt of the day together. Gathering the joy in my arms. In my heart.

And in my heart, I hold an overflowing indication of what is an abundant life. A life defined by delight, by joy, by laughter, by love. A life defined by moments. Ordinary moments that hold glimpses of the holy. Of the extraordinary. Of this savior we call Jesus.

He is there. In the sparkle of my little girl’s eyes. In my same little girl’s cries of frustration. In my husband’s tireless efforts to chase his dream and love his family.

He is there. Gently guiding and pouring himself out in us. Providing us adventure. Calling us to opportunity. Inviting us into his light.

He is there. He is always there. Always whispering. Always loving. Always pointing us toward joy. Toward love. Toward delight. Toward himself.

Will you follow him? I will. I won’t always do it well. But still, I will.

I will.

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