Every good and perfect gift is from above… James 1:17
Today I am thankful for the pitter patter of little feet. Well…maybe they aren’t so little anymore. 🙂
I am blessed to be a mom twice. Two children. Four feet. Four hands. Two hearts. Endless possibilities. Long gone are the sounds of pittering and pattering down the hallways and the stairs. Maybe now the toddling and pitter pattering are more like stomping, shuffling, and rushing, but it still warms my heart and falls like bittersweet music on my tuned-in mommy ears. From early unsteady footfalls on the worn but welcoming floors of home, to the steady thunder throughout the cold halls of high school, the welcoming hills of a college campus, and the rushed, demanding workplace, their footprints are forging their own trails and leaving their own imprints now.
As I write these words, my son is walking on the hard soil of a Haiti mission field, hopefully leaving footprints, handprints, and a presence that will make a difference in others’ lives. My daughter walked that same path the previous four years, but today she is walking up and down the halls of a senior assisted living facility giving smiles, love, and assistance to people in need. Feet that go, do, serve, and leave their prints…I am thankful.
How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news! Rom 10:15
All your children will be taught by the LORD, and great will be their peace. Isaiah 54:13
I love baby feet and baby fingers and baby smells and smiles and all the wonders represented in the tiny little miracles. Chubby cheeks, wondering eyes, wiggling fingers, ticklish toes, contagious laughter..littles are so much fun! They’re rough and tumble and adventurous and wide-eyed and ready to be and do and live and learn. They grow, they change, they challenge, they leave. We laugh, we cry, we embrace, we love, we pray, we remember..
We look at photos and first locks of hair and handprints on construction paper and tiny clothes packed away in containers. The cries and the laughter and the first words echo in our memories like the distant chimes blown around by the wind. They sometimes fade and seem lost but eventually, unexpectedly rush in like the winds of a fierce, violent storm. And we soak in them and find comfort. The footprints, the images, the sounds, the smells, and the pitter patter resonate anew. And we are thankful.
Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it. Prov 22:6