78/365 The Things We Make

For all that today was not, being a "work day," it was full of making, and the sort that makes your heart sing a little.

Watching little hands make prints with paint and blocks and a world in their head.
Watching my son writhe under the process of breaking apart and creating a poem for the first time.
Finishing a sweater for my girl just before it gets too warm to wear it.
Listening to the sound of music forming, slowly, painfully, but enough to give that hint of beauty in the making.
Like a life, the working over of it, the crooked, sweaty path of it, the glimpses of redeeming, the hope of glory.