I have been thinking often lately on the smallness of my life, and on the unassuming ways I can touch heaven in spite of my smallness. My life is nothing and everything. 

The girls have been asking me lately if they can hold hands with me when it's time to go to heaven. It seems they don't want me to be in heaven without them, but I tell them I will go first and I will wait for them. I tell them they will find me. With moments like this, it's a wonder we are not all walking fonts of tears over the beauty of our bane existence. How can life feel so hard and so heavy, and yet so desired and so dance-worthy at the same time? It is mystery and it is mundane, and it is mine.