It had been raining all week. And except for a few expeditions to find wiggle worms, we’d been all cooped up. I was trying to chop up veggies for this yummy Summer Couscous recipe and every time I picked up my knife one or both of my little girls needed corrected or disciplined or redirected to something more productive than poking her sister.
I finally said something like, “Girls! Mommy needs to do her work!” and immediately realized the irony of what I just said.
My couscous salad would be gone in less than two hours. No one would remember it. It is a relatively insignificant part of my work.
My daughters will live forever. Forever. I am training them to obey, to love, to respect one another, to do all that God has commanded us. This is weighty work. And it will have an effect not just in the type of women these girls grow up to be in this life, but it will effect them for ages without end.