I asked God for another vision to help sustain me in the near breathless mothering of our little lovies. In stillness I saw an hourglass with a minuscule flashing thread of golden honey passing though it as though time was being marked in a tiny, almost mocking, glinting wet line. I also saw the slowly accumulating avalanche that threatens when a mason jar full of fresh amber honey is tipped and poised to pour out. Uncontrollable and wild. A sticky engulfing mess. Unbearably sweet and could be suffocating. Unapologetically teeming and overwhelming and intoxicatingly delicious. Good for me. But in doses I can digest. Our issue is that our hands are too full with this goodness. Like when my daughter gleefully surprise attack hugs me from behind and somehow entangles limbs in my hair and it hurts so bad. I could chide be careful but really, I'd be crazy to correct an act of pure clumsy love. Sometimes when I get ten minutes alone my eyes uncross, recalibrate, and I come back noticing their adorable auras. So this honey vision made me smile. We're swimming in it by the hour. The blessings of growing a young family are so thick we're weighed down and sputtering, desperate for snatches of time and space. Five minute naps on the couch. I laugh because at one moment our life feels slowed to an inane trickle and at another, suddenly we're caught off guard fully submerged by how sweet it all is, oozing into every bit of us. Nothing is untouched. These are the days of drowning in milk and honey. Thank you Lord.