To the moms who rock and sway and dance their babies to sleep. Who swaddle and sing and stroke brand new skin through half closed eyes only to rise for 6am toddlers.  To the dads who strap their kids to their backs and walk the afternoon sunshine while mommy naps. To the families, the baby boys and girls growing up and into the men and women they will be.

To the love that lives in the spaces between chaste kisses. To hugs. To a brother’s pat on another brother’s back. To the imagination served up at a sister’s tea party. To the legos that spill out of toy boxes and the toy soldiers that line the floor.

To the ache of brave hearts who say good-bye for months, separated by an ocean and a desert. To sippy cups that sit long forgotten in the back window of the car. To the hushed moments under the night sky for last stories, plots, secrets between brothers.

To the Sunday afternoon naps and the creased faces that emerge from under the covers for hot tea and cookies. To the rain and the mud and the wet through wallowing in it. To the rusted brown hand prints on the screen door that testify to the mess they made. To the mountains of laundry and the super hero underoos. To the skinny butts that barely fill them out.

To sword fights and fearlessness on behalf of princesses.

Here’s to imagination and blanket forts, here’s to leaps and bounds over couches and beds and no stitches yet. To the mothers that get it and the fathers who encourage it. To every kid in the bed and barely room for the parents. To warmed up milk 365 days a year and the pleasure in being able to provide it. To never being able to get close enough. To the symphony of family – made in His image – telling His story through our every day, every way, ordinary love.

To you.

Here’s to you.

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