The Least Romantic Valentines
I sang my littlest Valentine to sleep this afternoon, with one arm around him and the other resting on my belly, thinking of his younger sister. The words talked of earthly families with eternal relationships and I couldn’t stop the tears.
There are so many things in this life that bring me happiness. I love a great piece of chocolate, a successful business deal, and a good book. A well fitting pair of jeans and a rigorous dance class also put a smile on my face. I swoon over gorgeous photography and I get really excited when I’m the one who captured the moment. A memorized poem, a conversation with an old friend, or the suggestion of a new one usually mean a good day.
But there is nothing that I have ever done or read or bought that has brought anything close to the joy that comes from my relationships in my family — being a wife, a daughter, a sister, and now a mother. I thought I knew love and service and happiness before this year. And maybe I had tasted them, glimpsed them. And maybe yet all this is a glimpse of what is to come. Either way, I love who I am when I am serving the people that I love and the joy and meaning this family of mine brings to life.
Valentines this year may have been the least ‘romantic’ in awhile (I spent the day taking my mom the the airport, corralling a baby at church, and giggling with my favorite boys on the living room floor), but my heart has never been more full and I have never felt so loved.
Not Pictured:
- Lincoln’s red sweater + plaid shirt for church today
- The goat cheese paninis and love (tomato) soup we had for lunch
- Valentiine’s pizookie dessert after the baby was in bed
- A giggling baby taking steps for the third day in a row
- A very cute naked baby (okay, so I posted one or two pictures, but I have 93904 more I’m saving) – we are determined to beat this silly diaper rash.