I find myself continually yearning and praying for spring to arrive. I need sunshine. I need the boys to go outside. I need the grass to turn green and the trees to bloom. My daffidils and tulips are just starting to poke through. I can’t wait.
Matt spent part of the afternoon today killing off our weedy front yard. He promises that 6 weeks from now, our front yard will be a lush, green landscape of pure grass. I hope he’s right because as it is, our yard is a mixture of weeds and different grasses. I can’t wait.
6 weeks from now, it will be April. April means that the sun will be (mostly) shining and the weather will be (mostly) warm. 8 weeks from now, it will be May. May means that the baby (girl!) will be here. I can’t wait.
It seems silly to admit, but I prayed for another family to come. A (stay at home) mom that I can spend time with while our children race around on their bicycles and our husbands grill the steaks. A family that can split the cost of ice cream truck popsicles. A mom to carpool. A son to grow up with Simon while our babies toddle around in the fresh grass. My prayers were answered.
I think of the other prayers I have. Will they come true too? I can’t wait.