I see you slowly creak out of bed and go take that bottle to the baby that cries for it before the sun comes up. Again.
I see you scrape last night’s spaghetti off the dishes you didn’t have the energy to load into the dishwasher.
I see you set the coffee maker and pour hot, steaming mugs of sustenance and smile over at the collection of Lego warriors lined up along the side of the kitchen table.
I see you scratch at Hello Kitty stickers stuck to the bench, the floor boards, her bed. Everywhere. Sticker remnants that testify to a passionate daughter’s love for pink.
I see you pack school lunches and sign forms and fill out reports.
I see you watch the news and kneel in prayer next to the toddler bed and listen to her lisping her lists of wonder and worry to Jesus. I see you listen and lean in and grab a bit of that grace for your own day.
I see you see him and how his cowlick never quite behaves and I see your cheek crinkle in a grin.
I see you proud of these tiny humans you are raising.
I see you clean up spilled milk and tears and hearts.
I see you whisper love notes under locked bedroom doors.
I see you knock on the neighbor’s door and bring that box of pasta noodles she asked to borrow.
I see you open your back gate to the kids who come over every day with their soccer ball.
I see how you’ve shared and given and spread the story. I see you and my heart aches with grinning so hard. I see you and I want to reach right though this screen and whisper in your ear, “Thank you, wonderful, brave, extraordinary you.”
There is nothing small, nothing ordinary about what you do. Not in your kitchen, not at your desk, not during car pool pick up or behind a keyboard. Your ordinary shines so bright it fills us all up with wonder.
I see you there on the other side of the screen – our hands and eyes locked across dirty dishes and to-do lists, stopping here for a moment to catch each others’ reflection and grin. Grin along with the words to that old hymn we used to sing in Sunday School, “To God be the glory, Great things He hath done!”
I see you and I thank you. All 539 sisters of mine.