vanilla chia pudding

Who remembers ChiaPets? Terra cotta animals that you soak, spread chia seeds on, and they “sprout hair”making a small green topiary for you to enjoy on your windowsill.

Who knew they were good for you?

Well, they are.

And, this creamy breakfast “pudding” is just the treat you need for Monday. Mondays are made for treats. It’s important to give  yourself something special to wake up to, and, when you do-  it may be a little bit easier to get out of bed. Somedays, I find it very easy to get up early. Especially if almost  everyone is still asleep… (except my hubby- I can never seem to wake up before  him) But: for me, the opportunity to be awake in a quiet house, to read my devotional, and sip my coffee (or tea… sometimes I’m a tea person) while its freshly brewed, ahhhh. It’s the  little things like that, that make it much easier to rise up.

Some days, however… the baby wakes  before me, and she’s wet so I had to go into the other baby’s room for a change of clothing, which, in turn… wakes the other baby up.

Some days are  “reheating coffee day”, but that’s okay.

I’m happy I have babies to love and coffee to drink, weather it’s at 5 am or reheated 12  times. It’s fine by me….

Because each day is a gift.

Not that I wake up happy and full of joy all the time. I have those days where I don’t want to emerge from my blanket cocoon. I don’t want to face the unseen struggles and challenges of the day. But… I rise.

And, that’s the point. Rising up against what tries to keep you down.

Today’s battles just may be tomorrow’s victories.

Today: We are more than likely going to say goodbye to a baby we have had since birth. We have had her nearly eight months, and she knows me as her only mama. She bonded to me more than any other child I’ve had, including my own. She squeals with joy at the mere sight of me, and screams in terror when I leave the room.

This, however is how she is with me. Not my hubby.

She takes “Not the mama!” to a whole new level with him.

So; today I woke up; anticipating this “miscarriage of the heart” that often occurs with being a foster parent. I anticipate the emptiness, fear, and worry that awaits the coming hours.

Today I rose to a different emotion. an emotion that cannot be described.

Nonetheless, today I rose.

Please follow and like us: