a scribble of jo

My mom texts me, “Writing a list of thanks is the best way to overcome beaten down-ness.”

I don’t believe her. I think, I am more beaten down than thankfulness can fix. I think, If I have to check off this box so my beaten down-ness can be justified, I’ll write the dumb list.

• The kids.

• Archie and his gentleness, his efforts to help me even when I’m running around with my hair on fire trying to get dinner on the table. His phrasing, “Mommy, can I tell you this one thing?” His determined patience for all things Sam or when he gets riled up playing with Charlie Jean. Thank you, God, he is a solid sleeper. Thank you, God, he is a rule follower. I couldn’t do this without him as my oldest.

• Charlie Jean and her fiercest shine, the brightness that won’t be dimmed. Her loyalties run deepest and she won’t be deterred. She arches her back against my direction, and I want to bend her, but I know too that she will not bend beneath the weight she’s forced to carry. She is so full of life, and she reminds me every minute that this is my most important job, raising these babies, and then she shows me this is the only job that matters.

• And there is my star Sam. Eric always talked of Sam before his birth as the gift we didn’t know we needed. Now without Eric here, it’s Sam who slows me down long enough to breathe or distract me from the grief that will otherwise crush me. It’s Sam who sparks our laughter, who shares his hugs, spreads a warmth that reaches deeper than the grief.

• Our house, which slowly becomes a home, the album for new pages of memories.

• My job, which despite its waves of intensity, allow me a place to feel competent and capable. And now only four minutes from our house, it also feels possible. Possible to start investing myself in the work and the kids. Slowly but steadily.

• My family. Mom, for her companionship. My sisters, keeping track of me in this new life where I often need that lighthouse beaming from the shore to lead me through rough waters, to bring me safely home. My brothers, when they show up with enough attention and energy to give my kids a dose of wrestling and love, the dad stuff I don’t have the wherewithal to give them myself. My dad who, despite all seasons and all phases of life, will never stop pointing me back to the foot of the cross and the sovereignty of a God who will not let me go.

• And now God. Above all, beyond all, He draws me to the end of each day when the kids sleep and I find my bed and I am filled, thanks full, so much so to say, “Lord, if raising these kids is the job you call me to do right now, so be it.”