Another day begins.
Feet pat on the floor, down the stairs. Hands in soapy water scrubbing crumbs of what was eaten. Woven fabric flipping and flopping in suds, socks paired, shirts on hangers, pants folded, drawers and closets filled with the fresh and clean.
Big hands cleaning small hands who spent the day in wonderment, experiencing new. Little girl folded in warm comfort, folded in love. Kiss the eyes which will soon be seeing in her dreams.
Tuck self into sheets to rest so all can be done again. All that seems mundane and old, again tomorrow, a new day. A new day to do what is old.
As eyes drift close with the promise of sleep, the self wonders, what is all this for? The purpose?
What happened to the dreams of big? Of travel? Of wonder?
Out of the folds of mind and murky dark of half sleep, the word, This, is whispered in the ear.
This is the dream. This is the purpose.
Your dream, your first dream, has always been of love. Have you forgotten my love?
You wanted, desired, to love.
Love is the purpose. So do it well. Love well.
That is the purpose. It is the greatest.
It is the dream lived where sometimes it lies in forget and lost appreciation.
But the extraordinary lies in the ordinary, the mundane. Open the eye, mind, heart and see it, feel it, know it, remember it. Know it is your dream and be thankful.
Love and do it well.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:13