September 18, 2026

The other morning, I was putting away laundry when I came across a tiny little sock - clearly one of my now-grown kids' newborn socks -  in the back of one of my dresser drawers. Immediately, I returned to all those mornings I'd spent putting tiny socks on tiny feet, and tucking little arms and legs into warm buntings. For a moment, I was back there with all of the gummy smiles and squishy cheeks, favorite books and blankets, late nights rocking babies. This impossibly little sock brought it all back. 

I thought for a quick second about putting the sock in the rag pile, but of course I couldn't bring myself to do that. Instead, I returned it to the back of the drawer, where I intend for it to stay forever: some part of my kids always little, some part of me always that young mom - my hands full, but my heart full of gratitude for those gummy smiles.

It struck me how the most ordinary things can hold for us the people we love, or precious moments we'd thought were long past. A tiny sock. A familiar song. A place or a smell or a sound. The smallest thing can bring us right back to a cherished time, place, or person. Or maybe the time, place, or person, never really leave us: we just need the reminder that they're still there. And maybe that's one way to think of God: a sacred presence, tucked into the everyday moments of our lives, reminding us of the love we already know.

My prayer for you this week is for the love you already know to find you, out past time and space and laundry piles.