In which I count the gifts

I’m counting gifts. And not Christmas ones either.

Too long I have let all the precious things-that-are-not-things slide through my fingertips and memory. Sure they have touched my heart. But because these gifts are not solid things, they become an echo resounding until the vibrations become less than what my heart can hear.

How to hold onto an echo? Record it.

So this year, I am recording the invisible. The gifts. Every good one that comes down on me.

We’ve just put away the Christmas gifts. And we’re already thinking about for great Valentine’s Day gifts! While a box with velvet ribbon and shiny things makes my girl-heart beat a little faster, so too,

the soft pat of a toddler’s hand on my arm

my job as toy dump truck delivery inspector,

or catching a spin-dizzy boy in my arms.

It is hard.

Hard to see beyond the groggy eyes, the crusty dishes, and the will-you-please-stop-leaving-tiny-toys-right-where-I-am-stepping-mommy-is-carrying-the-baby broken record.

The gifts. They are all here. Right here. But it is hard to catch them and make them stick.

So I write.

Of a small voice asking if I was not sick anymore.

Of smooth round newborn cheek.

Of nursling baby sighs.

Of a man I love so much sleeping on the floor of our son’s room because I suddenly panicked that our toddler would wake up at night and pull furniture down onto himself. (Thank you, dear hubby!).

Of two heads bent over a task – one old, one young, both working with concentration.

Of two boys buried in laughter and a pile of brightly colored balls!

I’m counting the gifts this year. Treasuring each one to replay and replay until the echo never dies out.

How do you count the many gifts in your life?

This is a partnered post.