Today I Lived And You Did Too

Today I was awakened by the sound of shuffling feet.
It was my early-bird riser in her big sister’s pajamas that drug across the floor.
I wanted to pull the covers over my head and feign sleep.
But instead I got up and made toaster waffles that she said tasted “divine.”
She kissed me with syrupy sweet lips.
Getting up wasn’t my first response. But I did it.
Today I lived.

Today she lost her shoes for the 37th time in two weeks.
It was right before we needed to head out the door.
I wanted to scream, to scold, to throw my hands in the air.
But instead I held her. I held her. My shoeless girl.
Together we found them wet with dew in the backyard and she whispered, “Sorry, I am forgetful, Mama.”
Being calm wasn’t my first response. But I did it.
Today I lived.

Today the birds chirped noisily through the open back door.
Their cheerful chatter seemed to accentuate the deadlines, the laundry, the mess piled up around me.
I wanted to slam the door and silence the temptation; there was so much to do.
But instead I put on my running shoes and my favorite hat.
With each step, I got closer to what mattered and farther from what didn’t.
Letting go wasn’t my first response. But I did it.
Today I lived.

Today I stood in front of the mirror sizing myself up.
It was apparent that stress and lack of sleep had left their mark.
I wanted to dissect each wrinkle, pinch each layer of soft skin
But instead I looked away and said, “Not today. Only love today.”
Loving myself wasn’t my first response. But I did it.
Today I lived.

Today I threw together a simple dinner and scooped it onto the plate.
It looked pathetic and unappealing.
I wanted to question my worthiness based on my cooking skills.
But instead I hollered, “Let’s eat outside on the porch! Everything tastes better outside.”
Offering myself grace wasn’t my first response. But I did it.
Today I lived.

Today I was on a mission to tuck my child into bed as quickly as possible.
It had been a tiring day, and I just wanted to be alone.
She asked if she could listen to my heartbeat.
Reluctantly, I lay down beside her and she drew her head to my chest.
“We have the same heartbeat,” she announced.
“How do you know?” I asked expecting some child-like reasoning, but instead her poignant response brought me to my knees.

“Because you are my mom.”

And there it was. My confirmation.

To choose to stay when I want to retreat.
To choose to forgive when I want to condemn.
To choose to love when I want to attack.
To choose to hope when I want to doubt.
To choose to stand when I want to fall.

Today I lived.
It wasn’t my first response.
But I share the same heartbeat with two precious souls.
And that’s enough to get me through the day.

I will choose to live again tomorrow.

Source:Dailygood.com