I often joke with my husband that I love being stuck in a rut. And I do. Constant excitement? New adventures? Exploring the unknown? Nope. I don’t need any of that, thank you. There is something so sweet about a routine. You know, the excitement of knowing that little piece of chocolate is waiting for you at the end of the day. How can this be a bad thing? A chocolate rut. Amen.
Seriously, though, routine is a good thing. It gives one a sense of security. Safety. Comfort.
Our oldest child is 11. And for 11 years, Saturday nights have been “get your hair washed and nails clipped for church” nights. 11 years. 7 kiddos. A nice, sweet rut of clean smelling hair, squeaky clean skin and clipped nails.
They know what is coming. Every Saturday night, as I’m washing a little one’s hair, I will be asked, “Are we going to church tomorrow?” And a little smile comes to their faces. They know clean hair means church on Sunday, lol. I love the smile that comes to their faces. I love that they love going to church. I love that it is “rut”. A constant, steady part of their life. What rut could be better than looking forward to a time of fellowship and worship with the Savior?
Now everyone is in bed. Snuggled under blankets, snores floating in the air and baby dolls cuddled tight. Waiting for tomorrow…