It is a treat to have an outdoor space to take the preschoolers to play. While I am not one of those die hards that believes in taking children out in inclement weather it is my preference when we can be reasonably warm and dry. 

These October mornings are a lovely mix of crisp, windy and even sunny. This week my assistant and I shepherded our six cuties through the door and headed to the playground. As it happened, I was holding hands with a boy whose mother was helping in another grade. She saw us, though she took care that he not see her. His mother smiled widely to see him happy, and safe. I am pretty sure at that moment she shot me an extra dose of appreciation. And affection. She loves this little guy and by extension, anyone who was kind to him.

I gave his small hand a squeeze. 

At the summer camp our family went to for twenty years, there is a song the band plays as the children head out the screened door for morning program, while their parents stay behind for a discussion. 

Then there is a collective wave of tenderness for these little ones, being cared for by volunteers who step up to the plate. Sometimes those teachers are nervous, and feel unprepared. But they take them anyway, to make fairy gardens, or paint a picture of flowers. 

The people that I call mine are really on loan. Kind of like a library book. I picked them out, and take them home, but if I am honest, they do not belong to me.  

When God peeks over and sees that I am being patient with His son who also happens to identify as my husband, or my daughter, whom I neither created nor designed, He is pleased. He knows that part of me is nervous, and with good reason. I will mess up. Yet He still blesses the effort to show up. 

And gives my hand a squeeze.