I love a rainy morning!

It is almost 8:30 here in my part of the Bluegrass state and it’s still dark.  Rain clouds tend to hide the sun.  I got on here this morning thinking just to get this rain induced feeling of calm out into the blogosphere, but I think there’s more to it than that now.

Way back when the twins were little ~ maybe 3 or 4 ~ our family lived in a little 2 bedroom duplex.  It was an OK time for us.  My Heart has always worked his butt off, so the family time we had then was the same as it is now.  Which means Mommy was Mommy 24/7…. dry cereal or toast with peanut butter or a slice of cheese on it, reminding them to potty or, later, to pick up their toys… scheduling playdates, going to the park, meeting with a childhood friend a county over ever so often to  share comfortable space and laughs together… making trail mix out of whatever was in the pantry (some kind of cereal, raisins, MnM’s, coconut, pretzels, goldfish, marshmallows… anything tasty and tactile)… reading countless books, going to the library for storytime (refusing to read the same book over again when we had so many others to choose from ~ yeah, I’m not into repetition when it comes to children’s book.  I know it’s “what children do”, but I don’t.  They can get their repetition in other activities.  Books should also be read front to back.  That’s just the way it is.)  Lots of trips to see the grandparents 2 hours away (something I know they miss, but school and the additional activities, not to mention the possibility of a little family time, keeps us here most weekends now.).  Dinner, playtime in the backyard we shared with our neighbors, bath and into bed.  And then we did i all over agin the next day.

I ALWAYS held their Daddy up to his children as a wonderful man that they should respect and love, no questions asked.  Just because he spent his days and a lot of evenings away from us did not mean he was any less of a Daddy nor that he had no influence over them.  I take my position as my husband’s helpmate very seriously… a lot of what they get from me, they realize they are actually getting from their Daddy.  I couldn’t do this without him.  But physically, he’s not with us for a lot.  I hate that he has always felt like he was missing their childhood.  I wish there was something more that I could do for that, but everything just seems to emphasize the challenge in a negative light.

It was during this time, after the children became verbal and slept through the night in their own beds, that the mornings were sweet for me.  Quiet.  Peaceful.  The pre-cursor to busy days.  Rainy mornings, more than any other, bring those memories back with such force.  I can close my eyes and almost be back in that tiny eat in kitchen (the farthest that I could get way from their room and still be in the house… just maybe 20 steps away from their door), sitting at the always cleared table, spending the smallest bit of time with my Bible, a study and a cup of coffee ( or 3 or 4).  I was the closest I had ever been to God then.

Homeschool kindergarten soon took over that kitchen table (which, even through a move, hasn’t been perfectly cleared off since).  That first drive to teach, and them to learn, took over in my head and spirit then.  Thanks to practically everything in the house being labeled with big 2 inch tall black words, and much drilling, they were reading 3 and 4 letter words easily by the time they were 5 and we had moved to this house.  My morning time vanished though.

Through the spelling and math AND now doing it all over again with our precious M, every little once in a while I get a sweet rainy morning to remind me of the peace in the joy that I have in Him.  That, even though things might look a little tough, and it feels tough on the inside where nobody gets to see, it’s only if you’re looking at it from the wrong angle.  Just because He’s not always physically here doesn’t mean His influence doesn’t permeate everything.  It soaks in ~ just like the slow rain on the ground.

Thank you, my Heart.  And thank you, Father.