warmly present

I remember his words often. Pastor Smart, who married Patrick and I on that hot and humid July day, ten-plus years ago. He said it in sermons, during our pre-marriage counseling and in passing conversations. To be "warmly present" in each other's lives. Our spouses, friends, children's and neighbors. To love well by being present and available and gracious and kind.

I have an obsession with Cuties right now. I down an entire bag in one week flat.

To be warmly present is a practice. Sometimes it's a decision, a choice, to look and truly see what's around you and to put aside that which keeps you separated from it. Trading folding the pile of laundry that sits on the couch for saying yes to a game of checkers. Leaving the sink full of dishes to crank up the music and have an after dinner dance party in the kitchen.

{These cookies --- peanut butter oatmeal chocolate chip -- they are a new family favorite. The mix of the peanut butter and oats and chocolate; the perfect bite. Served warm with milk -- perfection.}

This week we practiced being warmly present. We sidled up with tall stacks of books to read together, lingered in pajamas over second cups of coffee, cleared the pillows off the queen bed to make room for a big game of Sorry, baked cookies and ate them hot from the oven. We said "yes" to staying up later; to making time for one more round of Go-Fish, another chapter of Magic Tree House and five more minutes of AFV.

My big boy at school; his first grade performance of Little Red Riding Hood. He played the part of the big bad wolf. He was pretty convincing and didn't miss a line. So proud of his courage "on stage" and of the sweet kindness I witness him showing to his classmates!

Two of my favorite thrift store finds. From last weekend at Goodwill. It's a hit or miss as shopping goes, and you will probably never walk in thinking "I'm looking for a ____" and find it. But if it's a hit kind of day, you will undoubtedly leave with some treasures you can't possibly leave behind. This cherry red gumball machine is one such find. And I have big plans for this corkboard United States map that may or may not involve pinning places we've been and a gallery wall with favorite pictures of our family from those places.

Naptime; now that they are 5 and 7, it's rare that they sleep. But there are days that a busy week at preschool wears out my little boy and  days that my big boy has a fever that rages and on those days, they succumb to the sleep that their little bodies need. And on those days I always think of the quote, "let them sleep for when they wake they will move mountains". And while they sleep I like to sit at the edge of their beds and wonder about their dreams and which mountains they will wake to move.

This boy and this dog. Peas in a pod. These two are the very best of friends. They are inseparable throughout the day when we're home together. I like peeking around the corner, up the stairs when I hear the blinds rattling and commotion in the hallway to find this. The two of them spellbound by something outside, a truck driving by, a neighbor and his dog walking past. William pointing and telling Howard to go back down, showing him the way.

To be warmly present is not to just look and see your surroundings. Although seeing first is important too. It's like the child who stands with his toes on the edge of the diving board and surveys the pool below. He looks at it, sees it all, the deep end and the shallow and then he jumps. Being present is seeing and then jumping. Being warmly present is jumping in and swimming.

Last night we had a closing ceremony of sorts on the big sledding hill to bid farewell to winter. We rode in pairs, in trains, alone and on our bellies down the long and bumpy hill, some parts ice, others powder and still others grassy and muddy. The mud a reminder that spring is drawing near. The long winter has started its gradual thaw that will lend itself to the longer and warmer days that March will bring. I watched the boys slide down the hill, their hair blowing and the wind carrying their shrieks of joy, and felt so glad to have my feet planted in the part snow, part slush mixture at the top, watching; present.