Kiddo is finally down for his nap, the husband is eating his lunch, and I am sitting on the bedroom floor between the stationary bike and my free weights. I'm writing this between sets as I catch my breath.
I'm not a writer so much as someone who writes because I just can't help it. When my son was born, I didn't feel like I had the time to sit down for a coffee, much less write. But the words never went away. They welled up inside of me until I felt fuller than I had at 38 weeks, and I was forced to let them out in stolen moments here and there.
By the grace of God and to my mild surprise, writing again has made me a better mother. It asks me to pay attention to the little things, to capture sweet but fleeting moments with lasting words. It attunes me to the beauty and grace God offers us every day, in every minute. I hope I do the same for you.
