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Five Minute Fridays #Still

Happy Friday, it sure is chilly.  I think Winter just gave Autumn the early good-bye.  I'm linking up with Kate at Heading Home for five minute fridays.  Five minutes of free writing on one word, Still.

Still.

Today she wakes up four.  Today and for two days more.  I'm going to be intentional about drinking it in.  Cupping her face and tickling her chin.  It's the last days of four and its never going to happen again.
Everyone has their favorite ages.  It's hard for me to pick one.  I love two (i don't see anything terrible about them - except the lack of sleep).  I love the age my oldest girl is in now.  Six and almost seven. She's fully coming into her own personality.  It's saucy, creative, and totally unique to her.  It runs independently and makes "observations" or "philosophies"as she calls it.  I noticed something different about her when she crossed over the threshold and started elementary school.

But I do have a four year old.  And I've always treasured the Fours.  Four still has glimpses of baby girl, toddler girl, a girl who deep needs her mama.  She still softens her 'r's and offers me her little girl hands in almost every occasion.  She still pads down the steps the earliest and asks, "Could we please snuggle?" She's hovering on that independent elementary girl, but not quite there yet.  She makes lots of funny statements about the world and I turn my face willing myself not to laugh.  She hasn't learned yet that it's okay to laugh at yourself.
She's my clumsy girl.  She does "gymnastics" across the living room and waltzes fast by the couch only doesn't stop but floats down to hard floor.  Gets up and does it again.
She's fast running across the yard and she's down but up again quickly.  I could fairly say that she meets with a wall or floor board at least ten times a day.  Ten times to scoop up and kiss the hurts away.
Her name is Madelyn and for two years she had to go be 'Madeline' like the red headed story book that she clung to.  I secretly refer to her as Madelion. (Secretly - she doesn't like it).  Because she can roar.  Mess with her and you will be sorry.  She's rather of an opinionated girl with a dash of adorable spunk. Chin that juts out, blue eyes that scowl stormy, hands that punctuate her point by resting defiantly on her hips.
I love four.  I'm sad to see it go.
This is one of my favorite poems that sums up four in all its bright wonder :

Time is of the Essence
by Irene Foster


Now is the time to get things done...

Wade in the water,

Sit in the sun,
Squish my toes in the mud by the door

Explore the world with a boy just four.


Now is the time to study books,

Flowers,
Snails,
How a cloud looks,

To ponder "up,"
Where God sleeps nights,

Why mosquitoes take such big bites.


Later there'll be time
To sew and clean
Paint the hall
That soft new green,
To make new drapes, refinish the floor,

Later on...

When he's not just four

When I first read this poem it captured what I desired for my heart. I want to be still enough to enjoy, celebrate, and treasure up all these moments while they're still here...

Like that poem we've done a fair bit of musing about how far away Heaven is, if we will be having birthday parties there, and how to get to the moon.  


4 It's been beautiful on her. 

Comments

  1. She's four and she's precious. Enjoy these years. I love four year old children and get to teach preschool every day of the week. It's a great age! So glad I got to stop by to visit from Five Minute Friday.

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Five Minute Fridays
Morning

Morning seems sacred to me.  Having nocturnal children kind of robs me of the mornings I like to enjoy in silence and quiet thought.
For years I would get up at least two hours before anyone so I could just be by myself and be quiet.
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Morning breaks the night.
I love that Cat Steven's hymn Morning has Broken.  I've always thought the words were so beautiful.
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