There really is something so very intoxicating about the beginning of fall, chilled mornings. You wake quickly as you push the covers off and the cold hits you. An extra sweatshirt is grabbed to put over the one you already wore to bed, warm socks are pulled from their drawer, and slippers are frantically located. I slip downstairs to where it’s even colder and he readies himself for his day. A candle is lit on the island in our kitchen. It mentally warms with it’s tiny glow and gives the air a cinnamon aroma. The sounds of Bach fill the room and I busily put on a pot of coffee and make two plates of eggs and toast.

I paused midway through grinding the coffee beans this morning envisioning my own mama in her own kitchen doing things quite similarly. You see, I really am just mimicking what I know. In the winter months her own layers to keep warm in the early morning hours look quite comical — flannel pajama bottoms, a nightgown over that, with another shirt over that, followed by her fuzzy, warm bathrobe. But she was always there, getting breakfast ready, and doing her absolute best to start the morning in calm with the music she chose and candles she lit. I remember quite a few burnt oatmeal days as well which tells you that the task she had of waking so many children and putting breakfast on the table simultaneously was difficult at times.

It’s just him and me right now (and a little squirmy thing within that reminds me of its presence the most when I try to sleep). It’s not a house full of groggy teenagers who are known for hitting snooze and never getting out of bed, but this morning I almost felt giddy knowing that I’m going to be that person in this house who sets the mood in a crazy ensemble, who burns the oatmeal from time to time, and who greets each family member with a “Good morning!” (Let’s see if this little one knows that responding is the polite thing to do… We were always so chipper upon being disturbed from our slumber.).

And it made me, once again, so thankful for the family God chose for me. It made me thankful that I have someone to mimic as I start the day, as I make granola bars and bread because it’s healthier and cheaper for us, as I welcome people into my home, as I try my best to love my husband, as I attempt to be disciplined in keeping this house and be a good steward of what we have, as I try to make as many ordinary things special. It’s a whole lot easier to start figuring out how to be a good wife and mother when you grew up with the best example right in front of you.

Yeah, I am one incredibly blessed girl.