No cameras allowed

My heart's been full lately from our morning routine. I wish I could record it for posterity, for -those hard-to-keep -going moments. But I don't know how to do hidden video and my girls are old enough that a real camera in sight would change the words, the tones, the expressions. This written account will have to suffice.

Each morning the girls come downstairs, groggy and dragging. They curl up next to me and we talk. Then we read the Bible. Currently, we are in Exodus. I do use my NIV, because they the girls understand it and it's the real deal. I skip the parts that would blog them down with vocab and details. I read for less than five minutes. Then we talk about what we read. This morning was about the quail and manna and how it melted in the afternoon. Finally we work on our scripture memory. The girls, both of them, just finished Psalm 23. I wish I could record K's little voice reciting that entire Psalm, with little yawns in between stanzas and I wish I could memorize the feeling of holding her, tucked under my arm, her legs wrapped in a warm blanket. Or H's more confident voice, proud of her accomplishment and wanting to learn more. The only light in the house at that point is the table lamp next to the love seat. And it's quiet, except for the three of us. A calm, safe prelude before the craziness of the day. I end in the moment with prayer for their days. I try to imagine those verses I teach them wrapping them in strength to stand strong in the world since they both have time away from the nest. I am so fortunate to have such moments.