These days are good, when I remember where I've been. These days are good when I don't. These days are a reward for having laid an offering of wee ones before you, helpless to nurture what I could not comprehend. Somehow, they fly. It is a miracle that you use the helpless to raise the helpless, but it is part of your design, and it is perfect. When now I begin to see the spark of what they are to become, what a joy. It is not for me to receive any praise or due, because I was the helpless and you were the helper. How many times I cried in not knowing. How many times I cried for you to take me away from this task you bestowed. I knew I could not go on. You knew I could. Thank you for receiving my offering to you. Thank you for multiplying it and making it something that may feed the many. Thank you for my children, how blessed I am to have been molded by you through their little hands.
Psalm 127:3 Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,
the fruit of the womb a reward.
