Knock, knock, knock.
Inwardly I cringed just a little. Outside that door, my husband was caring for our kids so I could spend some much-needed time with Jesus before starting the day. I relished the stillness as I quietly sipped my coffee.
But my preschooler was awake and she missed me.
I answered her knock. “Come in.”
All smiles, she opened the door and climbed up on the bed beside me. After a good morning hug and kiss, she said, “Can I stay in here?”
I hesitated, then said, “You’ll have to be quiet. Can you do that?” She promised she would.
Then she noticed the gratefulness journal sitting next to me. She’d seen it before and knew that’s where I record lists of things for which I’m thankful. “Can I write in it?” she queried.
Perfectionism reared its ugly head….
(To read the rest of the story, visit Just18Summers.)