A small rubber boot confronted me from the road at the end of the driveway as I rolled our trash can to the curb early one morning. A boot belonging to a boy belonging to me, and so wildly out of place — dropped by a toddler the evening before.

When, as a young adult, I imagined my mature life, I imagined order and calm. Yet here I am, collecting small blue boots from the street, finding cars in the cabinet beside the coffee, trucks in the Tupperware drawer, a milk cup upside down — and slowly dripping — in the media cabinet. I still struggle with personal organization and orderliness, and four small boys have only increased the challenge.

There is little quiet, little calm, yet there is a profound sense of rightness. Our belongings may be in all the wrong places, but I am where I ought to be. Juggling a baby and a Bible, a sippy cup and a cup of hot tea before six in the morning is as challenging as it sounds, and I am not always glad to be doing it in the moment. Yet I am profoundly grateful to be doing it.

Motherhood has little glamor, really, and plenty of scope for soul-searching and fears of failure, but, in these little years at least, there’s also the reassurance that these people have been given to me, and my job is blindingly clear: fill the cup with milk; change the diaper that has caused the damp pajamas; read the chapter over and under and around the curly head; retrieve the blue boot from the street.

These certainties are gifts, which — when I do well — I receive with joy. One day, I won’t have trucks amongst the Tupperware. But I’m glad that isn’t today.

©Stacy Crouch 2022

2 thoughts on “certain certainties

  1. Your insightful, tender sensitivity, Stacey, touches many. It truly is in the little stuff that we best see the gift of life. You clearly know your Savior and know that He is the Source your beloved, even if often, challenging little gifts. God bless you.

    Liked by 1 person

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