imagine the crumb piles and milk puddles under the old high chair, the plastic animals and Brio trains under foot.
In the hollow space upstairs John strung up a parachute tent for his grandchildren.
I love breakfasts, baths, and book time. . .
A few days ago they left us- our house is quiet, clean, and we miss them.
So, yesterday John and I moved back into our grown up routine--I met a woman over coffee and cracked a new book, By His Wounds You are Healed by Wendy Horger Alsup.
I gently turned the yellowed pages of a very old one, The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment by Jeremiah Burroughs ( I carry the pages in a zip lock bag, hmmm, did a mouse nibble the corners?)
And last night in our cold house, under the down comforter, we ate our dinner;
together we read an Advent meditation from Good News of Great Joy by John Piper. . .
just the 2 of us.
"Is not my word like fire, says the Lord!" (Jeremiah 23:29)
Gather around that fire this Advent season. It is warm. It is sparkling with colors of grace.
It is healing for a thousand hurts. It is light for dark (cold) nights."
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