When normal feels beautiful

Tonight, as we got the boys in bed after coming home from some friends house, I found myself wondering why this weekend felt so wonderful. There was nothing spectacular about this weekend, nothing at all. And yet, it felt amazing. A sunny Saturday morning jog by myself, picking out my new kitchen sink with my grandma-in-law, hanging out at home with my boys all afternoon then church on Sunday morning that I got to sit quietly through, followed by a restful afternoon and then hanging out with friends. Nothing fancy. Just normal. It was the first weekend in months that we were all home, no one was sick, the weather was fantastic and the only downer was the kids melting down about not wanting to eat what I made for dinner on Saturday night.  If there's one thing I learned after a very trying year for our little family, it is to enjoy the normal stuff.  The run-of-the-mill weekends at home, the nights where I don't have to get out of bed to tend to a sick child or the days I'm not running from doctor appointment to doctor appointment and can spend time doing things I want to do at home. This weekend was one of those times that reminded me that sometimes normal feels beautiful. And, I am so thankful for normal.