It's That Smell

You know, that smell of freshly cut grass on the first really warm summer night when the light is still so bright at 8 o'clock and you can't fall asleep? And as you lie in bed you smell the clean fresh scent of soap from the bathtub and shampoo on their hair and Downy on the clean sheets. The floors still smell of cleaner from Saturday morning's mop and you catch a whiff of that homemade dinner you had followed by delicious strawberry pie.

And it takes you back to when you were small, lying in your bed with clean sheets and freshly washed hair and the grass your dad just finished cutting out the window while you stayed inside so your allergies didn't act up. The smells of routine and safety and togetherness collide as you lay in bed wishing tomorrow wasn't Monday. And down the hall in the bathroom you can smell Mom's face cream and fuzzy robe that will soon be holding the smell of fresh coffee the next morning.

And your heart longs to be 8 years old again so you don't have to be responsible for an 8 year old's questions about why Daddy doesn't have a job yet or why God just doesn't heal a baby that is sick. Because saying "I don't know, honey" just doesn't seem like a really parent-y answer but it's the truth and sometimes the truth hurts. Hugging that 8 year old while he cries sad tears for someone else's baby that may die and smelling his freshly shampooed hair suddenly reminds you that God is still in the midst of those tears, somehow, somewhere. Someday there will be answers, even if they are found in the smells of our new dwelling place. A place of daisy's and daffodils, sunshine and gold, wonder and amazement.