we finished up morning snack, made-from-scratch-honey-biscuits, and i sent them outside to play. black and white my uniform for the day, only short a whistle and cap to pull off my role as referee.
motherhood breeds hard days. shocked by the chaos of it all. what did i expect from these little ones when i haven't mastered the art of peace making in my thirty-five years? they are learning to control emotions far larger than their little minds can fathom. selfishness, natural. peacemaking, a skill to be learned.
i pulled a chair close to the door so i could see them play. grabbed my book, closed my eyes and breathed a prayer of peace.
"grace abounds and walks around the edges of our everyday experience."
there is enough grace for this moment. this blank space in time that feels overwhelming and unsuccessful to the naked eye. enough grace for their tempers and mine. enough grace to carry us all to peace.
there is enough.
i lay my book down and walk outside, hunched over, hands in the air, saying, fe, fi, fo, fum, i smell the smell of little ones, in my scariest, playful voice. screams emerge and children scatter. i chase them and take them to my lair. this interaction on repeat until we are out of breath and full of joy for this moment abounding with grace.