Return to Rest; this is Three.

This is three.

It looks like wooden stepstools near every sink.

Graham cracker crumbs in my bed.

When I try to change our bedsheets, limbs go flying and blankets become parachutes.

It takes four times as long.

Mismatched outfits.

Little doodles from her notebook ripped out and littered throughout the house.

Windowsills filled with markers and crayons.

Snarly hair I’m not allowed to brush.

Stories of us I’m not allowed to tell because well, they’re ours.

A ravenous sweet tooth.

A convincing grin.

A fierce independence to learn new things paired with an acute reliance for love and comfort when things don’t go as planned.

There’s evidence of her in every room and one day,

it won’t be so.

There’s fingerprints from her on nearly every window and one day,

it won’t be so.

I miss her already but she’s right here in my arms.

My heart swells when I think of her.

My mind races as I try to steward her little soul.

I think I might burst when I consider the dark in the world and how light she is.

I want to stoke her kindling passions and what brings her joy,

not snuff it out nor overlook it because life can get full, messy and downright hard to navigate.

I return to rest,

trusting in the grace of God,

Knowing that somehow

He carries us both.