My friend just sent this picture of my girl at her first high school retreat. She woke up this morning with snot dripping mightily down her throat and barely able to talk. When I was her at 15? I'd have looked for a way out of this retreat because it would have screamed intimidating to me. But I marveled at her this morning, all scratchy voice and stopped up nose. "Mama. I'll be fine. I want to go. I'm excited!" Man, she grabs my admiration sometimes. I love how I learn from her.
So, I sit here at school, the sounds of learning roll out of doors down the hall from the younger students left behind. And I look at this picture with tears on the edge of spilling. My girl is happy. And blessed. And I am flat out grateful on the ceiling.
I have a special little guy who brings me doughnuts each morning. I get hugs and pass them out to ones who are still not entirely sure the candy on my desk is free and they're "allowed" to take some. I sit in on a class now and again.
Sometimes blessing takes us by surprise. And I love how it takes my breath away.
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