Thinking of, and Thanking, Heaven

From where I stood at the kitchen sink earlier this evening, trying to rescue the basin from sippy cups and syringes, I watched Tucker playing the piano.  It brought to mind one of my favorite pianists, now sick.  Sadly, chances are he and Celia may arrive in heaven around the same time.  I washed plastic parts through teary eyes and hoped that, someday, she will have as much fun singing with him as I did.  I envisioned her standing behind him, belting out showtunes while he bangs on keys, the rest of heaven drawn to listen. 

And just a few minutes ago, I found myself in front of the washing machine, stain spray in hand, marveling at dirt on brand new pants.  Tucker donned his Easter outfit for pictures outside today, scooting across rocks and crawling through mulch and falling in the grass.  I've used plenty of Oxy Clean and Vivid and Spray & Wash over the past several years, but never have I needed to scrub grass stains.  I may be the only mother in the world who felt grateful for today's task, hesitant to rid the evidence that my child can run and play, that he can, thank heavens, get dirty.
JEB