beautifully broken.

The other morning Uriah decided to forgo his usual wake up time and rise, instead, when he heard Stephen's alarm clock go off. So there we were, changed, fed and snuggled in my bed by 6 am. As Stephen headed off for work an hour later, I ventured out with Uriah for an early morning walk. (Yes, I consider 7 am to be "early morning") It is so hot here during that day that I was surprised at the chill in the air. Uriah was bundled up, happy as could be babbling away in the stroller while I was feeling revived and fresh in the crisp air and morning light. You know when everything's just perfect? Everything just feels right? It was one of those mornings. The sun was beginning it's rise over Camel's Back hill and was scattering sun bursts through the trees. The birds were singing. The sidewalks were wet from overnight sprinklers. The streets were quiet and empty. My baby was happy. The exercise felt great. It was as close to perfect as I could have picked. I spent my walking praying and praising God for all the beauty around me. The intricate details of the trees, the bright yellow of the flower, the toys strewn about the yard from a long day of playing... I was amazed at this world and this life, thankful and appreciative and in awe... "Ahh, perfection" And just at my height of morning bliss, I see a truck pull up to the sidewalk one block ahead. A father and his two sons get out and he is hugging and kissing each in turn when a little girls runs from the house, "Daddy!" He hugs and kisses her, too, before ushering them toward the house. The kids go inside and the father watches, hands in his pockets, as they go. He turns around and drives off. And my heart broke. It was painful and sad and it made my heart ache for those kids without a dad at home and for that dad who hated to say goodbye and for the mom at home who's trying to compensate for the lack of a father figure... So this world isn't perfect. I continued to pray as I walked home and by the time I reached the doorstep I also reached the conclusion that this world is not perfect, it is surely broken, but beautifully so. In all things, in all circumstances, there is something to be thankful for. There is beauty in everything. While my heart ached for that family, it pulsed ever so harder for my own. For my baby boy, now peacefully asleep in his stroller, and for my husband hard at work for a long, long day... Mornings like that make picnic dinners at the park all the more cherished and magical and beautiful.