i don't know what the difference is.
i really don't.
some days i have eyes to see it.
some days i don't.
i don't know why the "some days" is true.
but it just is.
it's always there just the same.
whether i see it or not.
still there. still true.
my home is filled with it:
pure magic, i tell you.
i watched my eldest outside today. talking to himself as he took huge licks off the snow chunk in his mittened hands. he ran at, then tumbled over, the recently built snow fort in the front yard.
he leaned over to ask me questions about math as i made some chocolate chip scones this morning.
my daughter's curls were perfectly arranged on her flowery pillow today as she told me her plans for her calico critters. big plans, friends. i tried to listen well as i examined the freckles forming on the bridge of her nose. pure sweetness. and, you guessed it-- magic.
that baby. oh goodness. a pile of smiley mischief. he was so fascinated today by the way items disappeared if he shoved them hard enough under the crack of the door to the basement. old phones. scone pieces- you name it. joy and delight all over his face.
i know i've written about it many times before. but the fight for good remains.
the fight to see the good.
in the midst of piles and piles and piles of yuck.
He is still here.
He is real.
and His gifts are good. they come from Him.
the Father of lights. with Whom there is no shadow.
or variation due to change.
good. perfect. gifts.
and so i'm documenting some of them. to remind myself.