The other day my oldest was at kindergarten and I was staring down a long, empty day alone with my two younger girls. One had a fever so we couldn’t go to the gym, or meet-up with friends for our knitting circle or artisanal donuts, or any of my usual outings (cough, yeah right). So I asked if they wanted to take a bubble bath.

They were elated and we headed upstairs to get started. I brought the French press and a mug, and the girls played while I sipped coffee and read a little.

I don’t usually bathe kids in the morning and I realized the light was totally different –- spilling in through the blinds on this side of the house rather than setting on the other side during our usual bath time. And it caught my breath for a minute. I moved the blinds around to play with the light, and snapped a few modest pictures.

I thought about these little moments of beauty during the days of motherhood; the way we all notice them and in a way, store them up in our hearts. We know they’re important – it’s a gut thing, big and visceral. But then what?

Why does it matter that these little moments are beautiful? Is our gut telling us to catch them because they’re fleeting? Do we need them because raising little ones is taxing, and beauty reminds us that it’s worth it? That we aren’t alone, that this big task has cosmic weight?

Yes. I’d say those bright, shining moments of beauty are exactly for that. But not JUST for that.

It occurred to me that morning that ultimately, these moments are important because they point us to the Creator.

Sometimes I stop short; I’m thankful for beauty in motherhood because this time IS fleeting and at the same time, this task IS hard. Seeing moments of beauty DOES help me keep going. But I want to remember to push further and connect beauty to truth -- the truth that God is the great Creator of all things beautiful; myself and my children included. He is the great orchestrator of sunlight streaming into morning bath time. He is the author of the beauty in my motherhood; and in yours. In this, beauty becomes sacred, and our response becomes worship.

This week let’s let those moments of blinding beauty point us to the light that drives out darkness. Let’s let those moments remind us that we are seen, known, and kept. Let’s let them point us to Jesus, in whose hand we are held with great love.

Kristi is a writer, church planter’s wife, and mom to three pretty spectacular little girls. She blogs at And Babies Don’t Keep. Find her on Instagram and Twitter - and watch for exciting changes around the corner!

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