Sunday, March 14, 2010
"Momma, I had mercy on Jane." Jack tiptoes into my room.
I sigh and rub the short night of sleep from my eyes. "You did?" He nods. "I'm so proud of you."
Jane shrugs, "And I whispered in his ear, 'I love you. I'm almost to cry I love you so much,'" she says.
I toss my feet out of bed and the whole morning cascades like a symphony into motion, perfectly in tune. The gift of grace.