I think I have always lived for big moments. It almost seems easier in a way. There is the prep and planning, the processing and deciding, and finally the climatic result of all your hard work. In one single day, it's all over. There is a decidedly tangible feeling of accomplishment. You know that you have done something, and done it well. 

Right now, I find myself trying to commit to the daily rhythms of life. There aren't any spectacular climatic moments here. Usually, we wake at 6 am. I typically lay in bed as Nash crawls all over me as I try to situate myself to the idea of morning. In this season of life, big moments are sleeping in or even going to bed early - that's just how often that happens. After I drag myself into the kitchen, I make a cup of coffee in the french press and the first sip soothes my soul. 

We eat breakfast and hang out for a bit. Nap time looms heavy then - as the pup and the baby crash out. I might laze around with them, watching a show or sometimes sneaking in a morning nap myself. The quietness that abounds with a sleeping child is a different kind of quiet. It's sacred. It's like a big gulp of air - that moment to re-energize and claim some space for your own. 

The rest of the day flies by, and depending on the day, nothing or everything gets done. We have become frequent fliers at the library, Costco, and even through the Dunkin Donuts drive-through. I love hanging with my son. He seems to enjoy being out and about and I find myself pushing my introversion just for him. Baby Time at the Library is nothing short of awkward as moms attempt to make conversation while we sing nursery prose and tickle our kids toes. But for Nash, I will sit through many more of these gatherings even if it puts me out and requires me to do the one thing I just don't excel at... small talk.

In the midst of making valuable time for my son's needs - I am slowly finding the time to things here and there for myself. I might bake, or do a craft, or even write. I might even feel brave enough to paint my fingernails during nap time. Last week, I planted some herbs in preparation for the summer sun. They live in my kitchen where they inspire me to cook satisfying dinners for the husband. All these things seem even more pleasurable as I don't gorge on them like I used too - they are selected and purposed. 

What looks to be seemingly mundane has become the very stuff of my life. These are the holy moments in which I am seeing more and more of God. He exists here - in the first sip of coffee in the morning, the stillness of nap time, and in the excited shrieks of a baby boy as he climbs up the stairs for the tenth time. 

It's easy to see faith in the viral, the shared and the documented and a lot harder in the moments that aren't arranged for public viewing. Slowly, I am finding that unshakable faith is deeply rooted in the everyday. These are the holy moments in which I am being forever changed.