So I bundled up the kiddos, strapped the baby to my front, and we went outside for some fresh air. I walked back and forth along my property front to enjoy the benefits of a "walk", and the slip-free road surface. The boys started by diving into the snow of the front yard, but quickly moved over behind the garage, where we have a steep embankment that they love sliding/sledding down. As Lincoln led the way over there, planning to slide on bottoms where there actually wasn't much snow to cushion them, I asked him, "What if you get a stick in your butt?" A similar thing happened to me once. Not fun. But I decided we'd just deal with that gore if we came to it. They had a wonderful time. No stick injuries to speak of.
It occurred to me as I walked, once again, how much I appreciate the location of our home. We're tucked away on a back street of our village, and the only cars I saw during my time on the road were the mail carrier and a friend dropping my neighbor off at home. There were signs of lots of "foot traffic": squirrels and mice tunnels and rabbits and cats and deer and boys.
What a gift for my afternoon. The Lord knew exactly where our home ought to be, giving us the best of both village and woods life. I got to snuggle a baby as she watched my boys' antics, and then fell asleep on my chest. I filled my lungs with fresh air instead of a fresh cup of coffee, and my body felt better for it.
When I relocate my thoughts to Gifts and the Giver instead of whatI'dratherbedoing, all of life is better for it.