Where's the tragedy?

I woke up this morning and felt like I had finally snapped back to my senses after being knocked off my horse earlier this week.

Yes, my husband's job is set to expire like a jug of rancid milk on December 31.

Yes, there's a chance that a by-the-book social worker might decide to relocate the two precious little boys who I consider my sons.

But really ... seriously ... life is good, people.

There's a whole list of things that have roots in my heart; permanent, life-long sureties that I will bank on into eternity. As the song says, they can't take that away from me.

Among the blessings I am counting as Thanksgiving looms:

• Logan, age six and a half, who still reminds me every morning that our one-on-one cuddle time is the one thing that he looks forwards to more than anything.
• Posing five wiggly little people for their first-ever sibling photo shoot. The look in Atticus' eyes when I asked if he wanted to hold Manolin. Logan skirting the edges, hamming it up. Oliver refusing the smile, but flashing his biggest, goofiest grin ever when Jo whispered "choo-choo" in his ear.
• Leaning into the warm, perfectly me-shaped space against my hubby's chest on the night the news came down and hearing him sigh, "Man, it's a good thing I got over that manly 'defining yourself by what you do for a living thing,' huh?"
• Having to take off my glasses when I bathe Oliver because the boy splashes just that little bit too much.
• Being able to pick up the phone and hear Benny's sweet, always-there-for-you voice.
• Waking up at four a.m. and knowing that there's a baby (a baby, thank you Jesus!) sleeping not five feet from my bed.
• Having a hardened social worker with a chip on her should compliment me by saying that my home is among one of the most peaceful she's ever visited.
• The sensitive spirit of my Atticus, who sat on my lap last night and told me that if I got any more beautiful, he would have to hide me away.
• A confidence that this life is by no means anything but a dress rehearsal for an everlasting party with my Savior.
• Jo's absolute selflessness when it comes to being available for a nonverbal, developmentally delayed almost two year-old who demands of her time and only offers giggles and more demands in trade for her love.
• Introducing wriggly, smiling Manolin to rice cereal ... and watching him spit it right back out in disgust.

• An email from my cousin reminding me that this, too, shall pass.
  

A person who can come up with a list even half that long has no business asking for more. So consider me officially off the navel gazing wagon. Life is just too good to bemoan the growing pains as God works out His plan.