The ordinary.

I said to Ben last night, "I don't have anything to look forward to tommorow."

Ungrateful?  Maybe.  Or just tired and needing to go to bed.

I nearly missed getting Annie off to preschool today.  Somehow, a little feeling wiggled its way to my brain reminding me.  It was the Holy Ghost, I'm sure of it.  My mind was so not in preschool mode.  I'm a firm believer that Heavenly Father cares about little things, too, like carpools.  "But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered . . ." (Luke 12:7).

I dropped Annie off at school.  She was last getting out of the car because she's the only one strong enough to slide the van door closed.  I watched her run, her sweet little body bouncing its way to school.  Not a thought about body image or friendship dramas, not a care in the world, really, except getting to class where she'd be loved and taught and happy.  That's joy.

The drive home reminded me of what I'd said to Ben last night.  That started me thinking about my morning.  Lincoln was up before I'd turned on the lights.  He was nearly dressed and smiling.  That's not normal.  Fabulous, but TOTALLY unexpected.  He was happy and cheerful all morning.  I didn't have to remind him to do anything.  He even brought me the hairspray for his hair that he'd neatly brushed, acing that tricky part on the side of his head.  That's joy.

I thought about Brigham.  Brushing his teeth, he heard Sammy down the hall in his room.  He got him out of bed, snuggling him close.  Sam's ALWAYS so smiley in the morning, it makes EVERYONE happy.  I watched Brigham and thought about how I didn't have to nurture anyone as a kid.  I didn't care to, until I had little nieces and nephews of my own (too busy being busy).  Brigham, and all the kids, are great nurturers.  They motherese constantly.  They are learning compassion and gentleness, which will, no doubt, benefit them all through life.  What a gift to give a child.  Babies are priceless on so many levels.  That's joy.

Then William.  I'm sorry to admit this to the world, but the joy of William this morning was that I didn't hear him whine ONCE, not even once!  He's my most easy-going kid, but BOY, can that kid whine:).  Good thing I love him to pieces.  He's always a little slower getting ready, but today he had his shoes tied and dishes unloaded before the bus came down the road.  That's joy.

I guess having nothing to look forward to has its advantages.  It gave me time to think about the goodness in the ordinary.  And that's joy.