Upon folding the very last one, socks and all, she says, "there's one more left to fold, momma!"
I look all around her, lift up her little legs, and finally say, "no, honey, I think we got them all."
She smiles really big, and glancing up at me, she replies, "no, momma, it's me! There's one piece left--me!"
And so, I picked her up and folded her giggling little self into a big hug before setting her down on the couch next to the other clothes.
Sometimes, these tiny people drive me absolutely crazy. To the brink of insanity, really. And other times, other precious slivers of clarity, they completely melt my heart.
They remind me with a smile and a hug that it's all worth it--all the chaos and the overwhelming days and the lonely socks--because we're in this thing together. And Lord willing, what will stick out above the rest when all is finally said and done, is a million tiny slivers of love and grace.
In the hands of a masterful Artist, a life of broken pieces can become a beautiful mosaic.