all my "sometimes."

Sons 1 & 2, October last year.

Sometimes I don't do it as well as I could.

Sometimes I'm more fixated on the growing pile of dirty diapers by the changing table than I am on the little people who wear them. Instead of welcoming guests, I'm contemplating whether I really need to open the front door more than a sliver, for fear they'll be screaming inside at the mess throughout their entire visit. I get cranky and ugly-Lenae comes roaring from where I've tried to pen her up.

But sometimes my heart remembers what we live for. I kiss my sweet boy's nose when he excitedly greets me in the morning, squeeze the baby's chubby legs while I snap him into a fresh outfit. Downstairs it smells like the coffee my husband brewed this morning and the thought makes me smile; he returned to the bedroom to kiss me good-bye, and this morning there was a long pause after the initial kiss, and then another kiss!

It's all so simple, so obvious. Yet I lose it sometimes. Every time, He guides me back. And we keep on walking.