This Moment

The tea kettle whistles, and my son is no longer afraid of it.  He no longer wails in terror, thinking that I'm crying or screaming and causing the noise.  He runs to the stove and says "mamatee!" a blended word.  He knows it's time for mama's tea.

A balsam-scented candle is burning, a reminder to us to pray for our firefighters and for my cousin who makes candles.  This particular candle is one that Million and I made a few nights ago.  It testifies of the smells of the season and that our Savior was born in a very earthy-smelling locale and placed in (very likely) a wooden manger.

We've read books.
We've done devotions (Advent devotions will be later when Michael comes home from long hours at work.)
I've showered and had prayer time.
We've breakfasted. (Well...Million has.)
I've drunk a glass of water from my George Harrison glass.
Instrumental music, reminiscent of my childhood, is playing on Pandora.

My younger siblings and I used to perform "ballet" for my parents to George Winston's "December" album, when I was a moody junior high student, afraid of being embarrassed on film.  Million dances to it now, and it makes the corners of my mouth curve upward, a little hint of a smile that I'm sure adorned my parents' mouths many years ago.

We stop and have a ginger snap topped with crystallized ginger.  Million eats one-half of the cookie; Mama eats the ginger and the other half.

We need these calming influences in our day.
Without them, our days become rough around the edges and are frequently visited by tears and bad attitudes (mine and his.)

When we don't have these little morning rituals, then I start focusing on the other side of "everyday" life.
The things that worry me.
The things that annoy me.
The things I covet.
It's unhealthy to focus so much on self.
It's unholy to focus so much on self.

So for today, I'll take my tea, book reading, dancing with my son, and ginger snaps.
Things that nourish my soul and lead me back to the Author of my story, the Perfecter of my faith, the Giver of good gifts.
And because my soul has been nourished, I can go about the rest of the day with a changed perspective, and I will praise God in the midst of the attitude training, the dirty diapers, the endless waiting for a new job for Michael, and the rather scant pantry.  My burdens have changed to blessings.