Give us this day

My husband had to go into work early this morning, and my church class was canceled, so I planned to run during the daylight hours while Gretchen was in preschool. It is lovely to break routine once in a while.

The kids and I had a good morning together. I'm usually coming in the door when they have already started breakfast, so there was a sweetness to hearing them get themselves up and dressed, to make their breakfast and lunch at a relaxed pace. Even so, the family time started a bit too early for my preference. I was hoping to get through a short yoga routine before breakfast, but as soon as the kids hear stirring, they pop into action.

Adam was excited for the 100th day of school. They were told to dress like 100 year olds. I am not sure how a 100 year old dresses. Adam suggested sweatpants, which I thought was probably as good a suggestion as any, since you probably care more about comfort than fanciness at age 100, but we thought his sports pants didn't look particularly old. He took his glasses with big nose and mustache. I drew lines on his face with an old eyeliner pencil. I tried to make him to wrinkle his forehead, purse his lips, squint his eyes, etc. so that I could see where the lines would fall eventually. His skin is so young and smooth that I couldn't find many lines even then. He couldn't even MAKE lines. My children are so young.  So (sigh) I did the face wrinkling, found all my many forming lines and drew them on him: forehead, around the eyes, around the mouth. Nothing like examining your mortality first thing in the morning.

The good part of pondering my aging self is that when, after Adam had left for school, I did get to finish my yoga and was lying in relaxation pose and thinking about my body, I felt so incredibly grateful and alive. Sore: my hamstring is sore and my knee and.... But for that moment, it was all good because it meant I am still here. I was given at least this one more moment to make my kids' breakfast and tie their shoes and marvel at their perfect little bodies. One more day to hear and bear my friends' grief and show love to them and to my family. One more day to savor. One more walk to school. One more run. One more bowl of oatmeal.

The only blessings we are authorized to desire are today's, and if we are looking for the manna, we can usually find it.