I know I was cursing daylight savings time a while back, but man, it is way easier to get the kids up and out to school these days - could be that the sun is sending lovely golden light through our windows as we rise.

Could be that I am sending the kids off to school for seven lovely hours, and that is enhancing the experience.

I passed a mom out for a stroll with her two young toddlers the other day. She was meandering along, looking at the trees, standing quietly while her son poked at a leaf in the gutter. It took me back to those days with my own kids, where life moved at a snail's pace, and entire days were consumed with seemingly aimless activities.

Then I stumbled across this photo:

It makes my heart hurt a little to look at it. I was so tired, and so in love, and absolutely in my own universe. I didn't know how fast it was going to go. I didn't know anything.

Those two kids, along with their sister, are still the center of my universe. Looking at that photo, I wonder how I can be so joyful to slow the van to a crawl in the bus-lane and yell "tuck and roll as you land, okay?" each morning.

I spend my days in service to this family, and I'm the first to admit that cleaning and laundry and remembering to sign permission slips isn't exactly my forte. That exhausted mom in the baby bubble up there is still trying to make some sense of all this, eight years into it. Every time I think I've got this gig licked, something else surprises me.

There is an older couple in our neighborhood that I see every day. The wife walks with her face pointed at the ground, her back and shoulders curved painfully by osteoporosis. Her husband towers above her, taking tiny steps as he supports her elbow. They take daily walks together, covering small distances over large periods of time.

As I see them inch by, I'm reminded of my own painfully slow walks with my little ones. How my face must have betrayed my frustration at times, and my own height dwarfed my shuffling kids, faces pointed at the ground for the next treasure to discover. This husband, however, always looks peaceful. His face is relaxed, and he speaks in soft undertones to his wife. That is love, taking tiny steps when you crave giant strides.