Today was not that day.
I had washed Sam and Vava, and was peeling off Kachi's clothes so he could join them. Vava started wailing, and wanted out. Since my hands were as free as they'd be for ten minutes, I laid Kachi down, pulled Vava from the tub, and quickly began to dry & lotion her. She didn't stop crying, and finally I could make out the words "back in." I double checked, and yes - she wanted to keep bathing. By this time, Kachi was beginning to cry for his bottle, and Sam was slowly but surely turning the bathroom floor into a river. Lo and behold, as soon as Vava got into the tub, she wanted back out. (Join the club, sister! What happened to happy hour?)
We finished the bath with sobbing in stereo. Kachi got a lick and a promise - maybe minus the lick - while the bathroom floor got a (definitely overdue) thorough cleaning.
It seemed to be a day like that - things just piling up on each other, and I would have had to be an octopus to have enough hands to deal with everything. Why did I bother with a bath again? For my (now sobbing) Vava? I just wanted to say I love you.
It gets that way at Christmas especially. Trying to squeeze in a few extra ways to say I love you - buying presents, baking treats, planning parties, writing cards - can overflow the schedule. It's busy. But Christmas will pass all too quickly. The good memories will shine bright, and the exhaustion will be forgotten. The love we kindle, the friendships we affirm, the joy we nourish ... worth the busyness.
What we do for the least, Jesus counts as done for Him. He hears I love you in the late-night gift-wrapping. He hears I love you in the Christmas hamper you pack. He hears I love you when you choose patience with the screeching toddler ...
I want Him to hear I love you.
And I fully intend to nap slack-jawed on the couch come January ;).