From the Mouth of My Babe

There are days, when parenting, that you feel all efforts are futile. It's as if you're on the front lines of the battle with no back up and no end in sight.

And yet, we fight the fight. Sometimes it's the good fight. Other times, it's not so good. And often times it’s just the kind of fight that you're happy to walk away alive. Whatever the kind, we parents dig in, raise our shields and wield our swords with the hope and prayer that in the end it will all have been worth it.

After all, it's not about the little skirmishes. It's not about thinking you're doing alright when your two year old is eating oatmeal for dinner because it's kind of healthy and you snuck some blueberries and raisins in for extra...well, extra whatever.

What it's really about is not of this world. It's about the knowledge that these precious souls are ours for the protecting. Ours for the molding. Ours for the blink of an eye.

Tonight after putting Dawson's pajamas on, brushing his teeth free of all the oatmeal and raisins, washing his face and sending him to his bed, he ran from the bathroom and into the hall. I heard the scamper of his little feet go into his room as I followed suit with Aiden. And then it happened. A little voice strong and sure shouted from his room, "But Mama...we did say prayers yet."

Today was not one of those seemingly futile days. Today, God reminded me it's not about the small stuff. It's the eternal aspect that's important. And today, for one small moment, the shout of victory rose from my battle weary heart and I know it was not alone. I am certain that all the angels and saints rejoiced with me for this one little soul, who before even the age of serious reason, took the time to remember God.

And that my friends, is all that ever matters.