"Can we talk a little bit?"

About a week ago Janelle added an aspect to our bedtime routine that instantly melted my heart. Our books were read, Andy had turned out the light, and I had finished singing and praying. Janelle was cuddled on my lap, showing no indication that she wanted to move. Instead she said, "Mama, can you say words to me?" "You want to talk?" I asked. To which she replied, "Uh-huh." And so began our first "talk time". Her phrasing quickly matured to "Can we talk a little bit?" and we are now likely to hear it several times a day. She'll ask at dinner, in the car, when we're going for a walk, and always always always at bedtime. She wants to talk about the weather, what we did that day or our plans for tomorrow. With Daddy she wants to talk about animals or where she thinks we should go that day. And suddenly, she is not my baby anymore but a little girl rocketing toward maturity. Her childhood is steadily slipping through my fingers like sand and although it sometimes makes me sad, it is a good thing. I have no desire to try to slow the falling sand but rather I want to memorize every grain and etch it into my memory so I never forget. When I'm 70 I want to remember the smell of her freshly washed hair, the way she wraps her arms around me, squeezes with all her might and says, "I so wuv you Mama!", the sound of her giggles when Daddy has her laughing uproariously, the feel of her hand holding mine while we read books, the way she spontaneously breaks into song... so many things. Unfortunately, as I recently told a friend, I'm quickly approaching 30, and the written list of reminders on my hand is a testament to my failing memory. Hence this blog. It will serve as our record of family memories. It is also my prayer that we will be able to read it years from now and rejoice in the trials the Lord has brought us through, the lessons learned, and the blessings received.