In celebration of her birthday, our dear friend Dee and her husband Jim came over for dinner.
The boys wanted to honor her by making gifts, setting the table, and baking a cake.
That part I knew.
But after dinner, after lively conversation, sweet engagement, candles and song, we retired to the living room to talk.
Jim sat by Dee. Lonny and I sank into wing chairs. And the dear boys settled on the floor.
They rustled a box of Legos. They went to the schoolroom for coloring books and crayons. They settled down, quiet, and let the adults share.
For the next hour-and-a-half, they were happy to not be the center. They were pleased to be close, but they were content.Simply content. Completely content. Wonderfully, beautifully, honoring content.
That part I didn't expect.
And my mama-heart broke with pride. Not the haughty-proud kind (I know, from experience, that some sort of humbling parenting event follows this sort of pride) but the God-honoring, Praise the Lord, Thank You for Letting Me Raise These Kids Kind. The kind that makes you hold a hushed smile, still and steady, right in the center of your heart.
Because in His glorious goodness, at the end of the day, sometimes God lets us see the fruit.
The ripe, sweet, Because-of-Him fruit.