The three of us sat around our little bistro table, sharing a bowl of lentil soup. Not some homemade version. Nope, straight from the can. I cannot remember the last time I have actually cooked a meal. Unless you can count salad as “homemade.” There just never seems to be any time. And if a spare minute of energy does happen to come up, I usually decide I should instead tackle the bathrooms that forever reek of a two year old boy’s missed potty aim. Or the laundry that has become a decoration piece on the bedroom sofa.

But this night…

This night, everything was quiet. And all the busy somehow forgotten. We sat for a long time. A very long time. Perhaps because when you haven’t eaten by 9PM even canned soup tastes like a delicacy. Or maybe it was simply because we were enjoying one another’s company. But whatever the reason, we sat still, talking about life’s deep issues. Like why monkeys fall off beds and have to call the doctor about it. And will the monkey have to get a shot?! Oh and hey mom, Burger King rhymes with booger!

And then, mid bite, I suddenly felt as though I was having some out of body experience. A good chance from my total lack of sleep. But it was like I was up on the ceiling, looking down on the three of us.

Us: two babies and their young momma. A mom who often thinks she can conquer the world. But then realizes she in fact, cannot. And all too often she feels like a failure, in one way or another. A momma who sits tired–exhausted–but in that moment her heart is so full, because of them…

Them: the little girl who wants to be a “mommy” when she grows up. The little boy who sits smiling at his makeup less hero. A momma who loves them more than life, and wants to share her soup and talk about monkeys and shots and Burger King’s awesome new Halloween crown.

And the times she has failed them? Well, they just can’t seem to remember those times. For all they have is now. This moment. This love.

And so the three of them breathe the other in. The moment in. The still moment when all of life is everything good and right and beautiful… When kitchen floors are covered in sticky, and bedroom carpets cannot be seen. When sinks pile high with dishes and the same load of laundry is being washed for the third time that day. When emails, and schedules, and mom’s agenda are pushed away. When busy is told to wait, and only the present is allowed in.

When failure is a word unknown…

Our kids, they don’t need perfection. And God knows, perfection they will never get. But a mom who fails and tries again. Who stops to be present, when life is pulling her every way but…

As moms, we are forever longing to do everything right for them. But sometimes it’s not so much a matter of doing, but just being. Being there with canned soup, and a listening ear.

These are the nights they will remember. The moments that are shaping their souls.