At dinner this evening, Adrienne mentioned something that has crossed my mind before. She lamented how most of the moments we are now living with Aelah and Simeon will not be remembered as they grow. There is, I think, some sadness to this. They will likely not remember our trip to Loring Park today — how they preferred pulling a wagon full of bikes to riding them, how they popped about the playground, or how I peaked at them through the windows of the pretend house. The stories we’ve read, the songs we’ve sung, the dances danced, and the wonders won may never again come to mind. It may be that I want to grieve this; yet, I know that every moment is working for a greater end — as a small stone in a grand mosaic.

I pray and am confident that, like a tree, whose rings have been marked well within, these days might fit themselves deep into the core of their being — strengthening them for whatever weather may come as they age. Today, we tend trees. God help us.