I am up at daybreak. The house is quiet and I savor the tranquility. In the dark I walk down the hall to the living room where I raise the window shades and gaze out at the cold, bleak dawn. I turn on a light, softly bathing the room in a warm glow. Next I move to the kitchen where I switch on the the little light above the stove and set the tea kettle to boil. A cup of tea in the morning is a habit I savor.
I sit down to read Hebrews 11, "By faith..." I ponder the great faith of the saints and my own small faith. I pray that God will make me a woman of great faith and then He reminds me, "...I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." (Matthew 17:20)
In the back of the house I hear water running and I know the professor is up. Boo comes creeping down the hall; his hair is tousled and his face is puffy from sleep. He cuddles up next to me where he assures me that his brother is still asleep, "very sound asleep" he tells me. Boo is anxious to hold onto a few more minutes of undivided attention. We discuss what we should have for breakfast. As we chat the professor appears and starts his coffee, filling the house with the cozy, comforting aroma.
Tukes is awake in his bed happily playing with his bear. I walk into his room, greeting him in the dimness. We are happy to see each other. As I pick him up I realize that he is soaking wet; there will be crib linens and pajamas to wash today.
Back in the kitchen I start to prepare breakfast. As I scramble eggs and make cinnamon toast Boo informs me that he wants a pair of black roller skates for his birthday -- never mind that his birthday isn't until August. A go-cart will do just fine for when he is seven he assures me. "Oh dear, a go-cart." I think to myself.
Tukes chatters and plays with a car until he realizes that he is hungry. He lets me know he is ready to eat, now! The boys eat a good breakfast. I join them at the table when everyone has what they need. The professor and I discuss our plans and goals for the day. He reminds me that my car needs an oil change.
There are Cheerios on the dining room floor; I ask Boo to pick them up while I start to tidy the kitchen. I pack a lunch for the professor as he gathers his gear and pours his coffee. We bid him goodbye for the day and then he heads out the door. He will have a busy day. His students will be waiting for him and he has two papers to write; we hope the papers will be published.
The kitchen is tidy enough; we scurry to get dressed. Boo selects clothes and dresses himself before I arrive to guide his choices. This morning he is dressed in hand-me-down camouflage... from head to toe. I struggle a bit with my pride but decide to remain quiet. I do not want to discourage this showing of independence.
It is cloudy and cold this morning, only a high of 42 the weather forecast predicts. A very cold day indeed for thin blooded southerners. I dress quickly; the house feels chilly. The boys are looking at library books while I make the bed. We comb hair and brush teeth. "Don't forget your backpack" I remind Boo. I zip them into sweaters and jackets. Tukes, with rosy cheeks, looks like a little German hummel in his hooded, striped sweater. I grab my orange scarf.
"It's time to go," I tell them. Boo is waiting by the door; he doesn't want to be late. Tukes has run to the back of the house, in search of a particular car no doubt. "Let's take Brother to school." I tell him, "We'll be home to play in a few minutes." He follows me willingly; he always enjoys riding in the car.
Then we step out the kitchen door into the cold January morning.
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