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The lights are dim.

The muffled sounds of a soothing lullaby disc waft through the closed door of the baby’s room and into the living room.

The day is done and the house, and the family that reside within, are settled in for the night.

The day has been spent in celebration.

Blessing and celebrating a life.

My life.

Hugs and snuggles, candles and bows.

No rowdy party or loud music. Just a day spent with those most important to me.

And as the well wishes and blessings rolled in from around the world, in text and script and spoken word in celebration of me I realized…

Me…my life…it is him. This man with whom I’ve shared some aspect of life for over 15  years and loves me better than I could ever hope for, or deserve. It is them. These three precious, amazing, children who teach me so much everyday. In whom I see so much of myself; and so much of who I want to me. And it is Him. This One who guides me with a gentle hand; a still small voice.

I am so much more me with these dear ones around than when I am alone. They do not define my identity; they enhance it.

And now a warm, full sense of satisfaction – nay, contentment – fills me to the brim and more.

This truth has been long absent from this wandering heart. And tonight it has found me.

And so I sit in front of the fire and bask in the warmth of the quiet celebration of a life.

 

It’s Friday! You know what that means. Time to join the crowd over at Lisa-Jo Baker’s for the writing flash-mob that is Five Minute Friday. Just writing for 5 straight minutes. No stopping; no editing; to fretting. Just writing; and breathing. For some of us those are one in the same.

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