Dear Lord,

Thank you for the unknown mom who loves the slow moving child who stalled the bus just enough to show up a few minutes late at our stop to allow my slow moving child to catch her ride to school. Barely.

Thank you for my slow moving girl and her confidence in wearing pumpkin orange polka dotted knee socks with pink shorts. And for her desire to talk to me, at length, about how much she loves these socks, which further slowed down the slow moving girl. Thank you for shutting my mouth and letting her wear the socks.

Thank you for my ill fitting work pants that fit just well enough to make it through another work day.

Thank you for the people I work with and encounter in my day who provide laughter and hugs and stories that make my job even better. Thank you for their patience in dealing with me. On a Monday.

Thank you for my children who do not often hear my words on the first try. Or the second, third, fourth or fifth.

Thank you for their pediatrician who told me long ago that hearing tests were not necessary despite my conviction my children had hearing loss. Every. Last. Child. Apparently ‘listening loss’ isn’t yet a clinical diagnosis.

Thank you for my dog who, despite the mind-boggling, crazy ridiculous amounts of hair he leaves on my floors every solitary day, greets us with licks and wagging tail. Which of course produces a floating trail of additional dog hair.

Thank you for the reminder that the world wide web, in all its glorious wideness, would have no less than fifty ways for me to make due with the uncooked rice, can of black beans and tomatoes. Basically the only reasonable, unspoiled, unfrozen ingredients I had on hand for dinner.

Thank you for the edible meal that resulted and the surprising ‘This is really good!’ comments from the small people. Thank you for arming me with the “We are so unbelievably blessed to have this meal and people here, near and far would be happy to enjoy this…” speech just in case. I also appreciate the “beans and rice are a complete protein” back-up speech.

Thank you for the extra dose of patience after I managed to remove the rice bag, apparently previously opened, from the shelf. Open side down.

Thank you for the new vacuum which has become my best friend (see earlier dog hair point).

Thank you for an extra bulb of garlic after I burned the first batch and melted the spatula into it. Thank you for the reminder that carcinogen is not what I wish to feed my kids and the extra nudge to scrub the pan twice before reusing.

Thank you for the fussy baby because his clinging reminds me that I’m needed to fill a vital role in someone’s life even on a day when I feel barely capable of find matching socks.

Thank you for also reminding me (through his whining) that we have been afforded the opportunity to visit a doctor and receive immunizations. (There is no political pro or anti vaccine statement being made here. Just simple gratitude that I can visit my doctor and receive the treatment I choose for myself and my family. I’m fairly confident we all know I can barely find aforementioned matching socks much less make a political statement.)

Thank you, Lord, for the ability to find a medicine dropper to administer the infant ibuprofen. Only you know how difficult it is for me to find these things in the cabinet when needed. Ironically, there are likely four under my front car seat.

Thank you for increasing homework because it is a reminder of our good school systems and the hard work our teachers put forth. Thank you for allowing me to still know how to do second grade math. Next year is a bit concerning.

Thank you for the cafeteria workers who prepare and serve my children because most days I can’t get it together to make the lunch box thing happen.

Thank you for messy faces and sweaty necks and stinky socks and piles of laundry. Because this reminds me of food eaten, full bellies, bodies healthy enough to play, the blessing of owning more than one outfit, as well as a washer and dryer.

Thank you, Lord, for the children’s bedtime. Enough said.

Thank you for the joy of awakening to enjoy another day.

Thank you for changing my perspective when I really just wanted to hide in my closet with my bar of chocolate.

Amen.