I give.

He likes to play by himself.
I love to watch him. (It's how I spend my days.)

And sometimes when I kneel down, he comes and holds me. And pats my back. And calls me by name. My real name. Momma.

I think he is pretty near perfect, with a face of an angel. And I am right.

I have been pondering about what the first gift of Christmas was. I think there were two. The gift of loss, accompanied with the gift gaining, for eternity, those we love. I couldn't think of anything more that I could ever want. At the end of the day, at the end of my life, at the beginning of what lies beyond, I want (and need) my family.

Heavely Father gave us His Son. Jesus Christ gave us his life.

Mary was given a baby, and then she, in return, gave her heart.

I've been wondering what I've been giving; what I'm going to give.

Here's what I came up with: I give my hands to tickling, and holding, and dressing, and washing; to wiping tears, and wiping bottoms, to taking care of baby(ies). Because holding babies lights up my heart and makes me feel like I'm holding onto a glistening bead of heaven, right here on earth.