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The Maker of Rest for This Home

She creeps her way to my side of the bed as I pretend to still be sleeping. I can hear her soft breathing and her tip toe feet. ‘ Mom! The sun’s up!’ she says suddenly in my ear, referring to her Gro-Clock. It was set for 7:00 am, which was truly a miracle compared to the 5:30 am wake ups she was having only six months earlier. ‘ Okay, I’ll be up in a minute.’ I groan and bury my head further into the pillow. I feel like a teenager being woken up by her mother, yet it was my four year old daughter doing the waking. I just need more rest. More time. More time alone. But, alas, before I can even throw the covers back over my head, she is asking for milk and a granola bar and a show. So begins a day spent with children’s voices ringing in my ears, messes that need to be cleaned, and demands that are waiting to be filled. Okay, okay, there is also the laughter, joy, and love, but at this point all I can think of is the negative. I roll myself out of bed and begin in a f

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