We seek the light in the darkness, the joy in the mundane, seek ways to make our work worship  — and on afternoons like this, may our simple tasks, our simple prayers be as incense, rising up [2, 3].
It was my mom’s birthday yesterday.
She taught me — continues to teach me — countless things, among them the simple little fact that everyday chores can be infused with beauty.
She has a incredible touch which makes every little corner so pretty. No one can transform a space so quickly from generic to home like she can — she can make a hotel room feel like you’ve lived there your whole life, and you’re coming home.
She teaches me a cloth napkin folded in half underneath the French press can upgrade that morning cuppa from a routine to an experience.
She teaches me ragged, torn, stained towels belong in the rag box, not in the kitchen.
She teaches me to stop mid-morning or mid-afternoon and savor something, like a tall glass of iced tea.
She teaches me no matter how little one has, it can be made beautiful through a combination of cleaning and contentment.
And most importantly, she’s taught me to start cooking an onion if Josiah’s on his way home and I haven’t yet started dinner.
i’m folding clean laundry. it looks like something pink exploded all over my house. it looks like at least seventeen girls live here. this isn’t nearly the half of it. my poor husband. this place is overflowing with aveline’s and my clothes — stuck in limbo somewhere between washed and folded and to-be-tried-on and to-be-given-away and to-be-stored. there are the boxes of my own clothes that i’ve begun to unpack, then quickly abandoned upon the discovery that nothing fits. there are the piles of aveline’s clothes that she’s outgrown and not-quite-grown-into. there is the ever-growing laundry basket, since aveline makes certain that she and i change clothes at least twice a day. and then there’s the diaper laundry. oh, and i guess josiah needs clean clothes occasionally, too ;-) did i mention i’m thankful for indoor laundry facilities?