The Rare, Slow Mornings

The older I get, the more I recognize how fleeting slow mornings are.

Kids sleeping in, with not an activity in sight? No rushing around, no hurried quiet time, no frazzled conversations wondering how they could have possibly lost one of their shoes AGAIN!

And while I absolutely love the season I’m in with my kids—the practices, the school mornings, the full calendars and all—I really do appreciate mornings like this.

The ones where the house stays quiet a little longer. Where the coffee gets finished while it’s still hot. Where no one is asking what time we need to leave, what we’re having for breakfast, or where their other shoe is.

There’s something about a slow morning that feels almost unfamiliar now. A little extra space to linger. To sit down. To move through the morning without immediately thinking about what needs to happen next.

And maybe that’s why I appreciate them so much.

Because I know these mornings won’t always look like this either.

Someday, the house will be quiet for an entirely different reason. The shoes will stay where they’re supposed to, the mornings will move more smoothly, and I have a feeling I’ll miss even the chaos I sometimes wish would slow down.

The little feet running through the house. The last-minute searches for shoes. The voices calling from another room. The mornings that feel a little too full before the day has even really begun.

So for now, I’m learning to appreciate both.

The beautifully busy days that fill this season of life—and the rare, slow mornings tucked between them.

Because somehow, I know I’ll miss it all.