I am on my knees, aware of God and my joints. Kneeling down low, my face in the carpet, I close my eyes to ignore the crumbs. My heart beats in my ears, I feel the earth pull my skin to the ground.

We don’t feel how urgent this pull down to the earth is when we’re right side up. It all feels normal until we spin it around the wrong way. I’m Phoebe Buffay and this gravitational pull feels more like a push.

There’s this puffy skin over my right eye that I try to convince myself will go away with proper sleep. But I’m coming to accept that no amount of sleep can knead this skin back into place and this hangover eyelid is here to stay.

Gravity doesn’t wave white flags.

This is a photo from the late 1920s, my grandmother as a girl with her parents, Dorothy and Dale. I know Dale looks like Dracula, it’s okay if you’re thinking that. I’ve always been told I resemble my grandma, her round brown eyes and straight across eyebrows. My son looks just like her, for those of you who know.

But there is something familiar in Dorothy’s eyes, something of age, of history, of puffy eyelids covering lashes. This woman, my great grandmother, lived.

The earth pulled her down the same way, fragile skin battling the wind, the sun, the laws of nature. She came as a miracle and lived as one, too, though I’m not sure she knew who to give the credit to.

Even miracles get wrinkles. Maybe especially miracles.

I wanted to make the packet kind, Swiss Miss with mini marshmallows. But somehow I’d accidentally bought the mocha cappuccino kind of packets and I didn’t think giving coffee to my already-snow-crazy kids would be the best idea. So I pulled out the tin of Hershey’s cocoa and made the kind from the back with the dash of salt and bit of vanilla.

I don’t know if it was the snow falling fast or the peppermint sticks I got from Wal-Mart for 87 cents, but it was the best cup of  chocolate I think I’ve ever had. Definitely the best I’ve ever made. It could have also been the fact that I didn’t expect it to snow anyway and the whole day was a blessed gift.

As I went to bed last night, I thought about all the happiest days of my life and all the spectacular ones came to mind. Our wedding day was happy because of what it represented, but there was so much expectation hovering around that day that it’s hard to give it that legit label. The day the twins were born was miraculous and joyous, but I weighed nearly as much as my 6 foot 3 husband and they came out way too early so there was lots of fear and tears and worry weaving itself through that happy day.

We’ve had a lot of great vacations together, from our honeymoon trip to Maine when we were wide-eyed and sun-kissed, to our family trip to Disney last year when every moment was magic. Ish. But those were so built up, so planned for and looked ahead to, that it was hard to simply go with the flow when the flow wasn’t on the schedule.

And then a memory came to mind when I was pregnant with the twins, but no body knew they were twins yet. The Man and I went in for a routine appointment to hear the baby’s heartbeat, and the edges of our nervous excitement quickly shook jagged when she said she couldn’t find one. And so we walked foggy-like into the dark ultrasound room and waited. And when she put that cold wand on my tummy, peered close to the screen and turned it our way, she calmly said to us Well, you aren’t eleven weeks after all. You’re only seven. And there’s two. Two what? Two babies. There are two babies. You’re having twins! Congratulations!

And nurses gathered in the hallways to look at us and the doctor came in and pointed at the screen Ahhhh, that explains it! and I had visions of two car seats and matching outfits and my husband couldn’t stop laughing. And we somehow made it from the exam room to the car when we realized, twins. And the best part was yet to come because now we got to tell everyone. And we’ve never had so much fun. It was one of the purest, happiest, days in all my life. Terrifying, but only vaguely. I never expected it in a thousand years.

I think that’s part of what makes most of the happy days happy. Unexpected gifts. Snow before Christmas. Hot chocolate with vanilla. Telling the family there’s two! What was one of your happiest moments?

Kristen is originally an Oklahoma girl but has traveled far and wide with her Air Force husband of 15 years. Kristen and David have 3 precious young’uns, twin sons (age 10) and a daughter (age 7). She is a forever work-in-progress whose current refining location is Colorado. She and 3 dear friends write to encourage at Moms Sharpening Moms.

At two, major separation anxiety had this boy clinging to my leg and crying as I dropped him off in the nursery or childcare room. I had to psychologically gear myself up to attend a MOPS meeting or Mother’s Day Out because I knew the first few minutes would be an ordeal. He would cry because he wanted Mama and no one else would do.

Now I’m the one fighting separation anxiety. While I love the freedom that comes with older children, I sometimes miss their unabashed ways of love-display that came from their preschool little bodies. Oh, I do not miss the crying fits. What I do miss is their bright and blazing way of showing love, like running full tilt and knocking me down with squealing hugs. Or, curling up all snuggly in my lap.

This tall 10 year old can’t fit in my lap.

I am striving to stop neck pain that comes from persistently looking backwards and enjoy my children in the here and now. What I have discovered are many moments – gifts from my Daddy – that show me this child’s love is as real and present as it was when he was very little. The difference is these moments sneak in more subtly. Moments like:

Leaning his head on my shoulder.

Sidling up to me while movie watching.

Asking me what I think about his new Lego creation.

Singing along with me to the car radio.

These love gestures are so small that I may have missed them had I not been looking.

The hallmark of these child-rearing years seems to be tension. Tension from children as they balance drawing close and pulling away. Tension from this Mama who balances her job of embracing cuddly close while encouraging (appropriate) independence.

I wonder if Jesus aches over this tension, too. Balancing our free will with His desire for us to want His presence. It is such a comfort to think that whatever I am feeling, He gets me. He’s been there, done that.

Those of you with young’uns beyond the preschool stage, what love gestures do your children show? Am I the only Mama who thinks they are few and far between ’til I take the time to see them?