Tissues in tiny pieces across two rooms. Little hands pulling on pant legs. Sticky in places sticky shouldn’t be. Where are my shoes?  Didn’t I just sweep this floor yesterday? Distraction lasted two seconds. She laughs, then cries, and giggles again in a minutes time.

Life. This is life with a toddler. Somedays I want to pull my hair out. Somedays I crawl in bed exhausted. One little body, a tsunami of energy.

On those days when I want to cry along with her. On those days that the pulling of my pant legs feels like too much. Those moments I feel frustration building. The moments I want to run and catch a deep breath of air.

Yes, on those days, in those moments I am learning. Learning to dance.

Pick up little sticky fingers and dance.

Holding her close I realize it doesn’t last forever. The littleness will grow. And I won’t chase tissue pieces around the room. I won’t feel little hands tugging on my legs. One day crawling into bed will feel different.

In these moments I am learning. To slow. Slow dance. While I have her in my arms, we dance.

And I sing Good, Good Father. He is good. Good to us.

Life may feel sticky, but there is always room to dance. So, we dance.

Luke 10:41-42 But the Lord said to her, “My dear Martha, you are worried and upset over all these details! There is only one thing worth being concerned about. Mary has discovered it, and it will not be taken away from her.” NLT

James 4:14 How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone. NLT