tonight

i just sang my sweet boys to sleep. all the way to sleep.  to softly snoring.  i watched them fall into that other world of physical rest and mental processing and adventure. what a privilege. their beautiful generous selves getting full attention. those two bookend-ed by two high maintenance sisters. 

i began with jude.  i love my time with him in the evening.  he is my most basal.  he eats when he's hungry (which is most of the time) and he sleeps when he is tired- which is pretty early in the evening.  he's not complicated- he spends himself wisely- saving complicated for things to do and learn.  he is low maintenance- he doesn't ask, but he receives love and welcomes it.  i want him to know how special he his- how thankful i am for him- how wanted and appreciated he is.  tonight after  praying with him and singing switchfoot and talking for a while i told him that i loved him so so very much and that he was so very special.

"why?" he said. "because i'm smart?" which i'd just told him he was.
"no.  just because you're jude."
"just because i'm jude." he confirmed with a smile.
"yup.  that is all."

i climbed from the bottom bunk , up to bryn.  this guy is a ball of muscle and constant motion. so different from jude- so complimentary.  he is also kind and understanding of the flanking sisters- the squeaky wheels.  he also needs to know how special he is, and wanted, and cared for.  but this guy- he asks for it- he needs to hear it and he's not afraid to set himself up for a compliment- which i'm happy to give out. he got a medley from old gospel to james taylor to squeeze.  and as i played with his fuzzy hair and sang, i coursed through my own memories.  i sang through my years.

and what i saw was how incredibly, undeniably blessed i have been.  i sang through my childhood and highschool and missions trips when my eyes were wide open to the world.  i sang through college and my early years with mike.  i sang through loss, and death, and infertility and special education. i sang through san francisco and residency and beaches and bridges and marin headlands hikes and deep friendships.  i sang through birthing babies and hydrocephalus and choosing joy and non- abandonment.  i sang through churches, and bible studies, through dinner parties and front porches late at night with wine and little white lights.  i sang it all out and was filled with such thanks for the goodness i've seen, the hardness i've felt, the beauty i've known, the people that broaden me and stretch me, the God that has been faithful.

i was moved in a way that makes you want to run or paint or shout or sing a whole lot louder- so i sang out a little bit louder (which i could because by now they were both snoring)

ah la la la la day
ah la la la day
ooooo ooo ooo oooo ooo
she's still running 
still running 
still running
to stand still