The Angels in my House

No doubt the days can be long and hard,

Early to rise, late to rest,

Few minutes to stop and breathe.



Lunches to pack, errands to run,

lists, lists, lists.

Squabbles and tantrums, skinned knees, bruised egos, are daily fare.



Some days I wonder how much more can I bare?



How much more should I care?



Sometime after the sun finally sets and the moon is watching,

I labor the stairs and the final remains of the day.



I step over a basket of laundry, dirty or clean, it's hard to say.

The teddybear princess lies thrown to the floor waiting for tomorrow to bring her back to life.



On the final stair, I turn and greet the angels in my house.



They lie nestled and snuggled,

their round faces dreaming of what might be.



No struggles, no skinned knees.



Quiet beautiful angels, that God has given to me.



I brush a cheek , kiss a forehead, and linger there a bit.



It's there in the presence of angels, I see how it all fits.



It's there that I breathe and am reminded that these angels are my gifts.



They're to teach me, test me, mold me and show me how beautiful life can be.



It's then that I finally lay my head down and thank Him for sending these angels to me.



Tomorrow I will try harder, be more patient, and work to deserve the angels in my house.