There’s just something breathtakingly beautiful about flaming crimson and golden autumn leaves with a backdrop of charcoal sky. Up ahead on the leaf-carpeted path, wee Lily stoops to pick up a prized leaf. Somewhere along the way, she chokes back a cry, “Mommy! I dropped it.” We backtrack to retrieve the tiny, dried, unattractive leaf. This one wasn’t golden yellow ochre, brilliant pumpkin orange, or burning red. This one was ordinary. Ugly. Dead. 
The story’s told how my artist father-in-law complained in his youth to his mother about the dreary, gray day. In my vivid imagination, he’s looking forlornly out the window at the bleak, earth-kissing clouds. Thick. Heavy. Gray. And his mother’s reply burns through the generations and the marriages, and sears into my very soul:
“There’s beauty in the gray. Find the beauty in the gray, Son. Find gratitude.”
Another autumn day, a year past, I bundled us up and set out to find the glorious vibrant-colored leaves. There was a grove I’d remembered in the woods, so we headed for those trees first. An hour later and disappointed that the leaves weren’t as magnificent as I’d remembered, we trudged home. Ungrateful, I pushed the stroller along the driveway and tugged Bentley’s leash–Beagle noses are stubborn–as I saw something from the corner of my eye. Stooping low, my heart literally sang as I took a closer look. There in my own front yard was the very leaves I’d wanted. A gift, a gentle grace, from my God.
That afternoon I learned about gratitude in a most undeserving, yet merciful, way. When we become dissatisfied or ungrateful for what we have, maybe, just maybe, we can’t even see the beauty that is ours, the beauty that we have. God gave my ungrateful heart a beautiful gift with the desired leaves, but also with the lesson to see and appreciate what is right there in front of me. When I’m looking elsewhere for more, I’m unable to see, utterly blinded to, all I have, which is so often just exactly what I need.
That dried up, ugly leaf Lily chose? It was seen by her, loved by her, and treasured by her. She saw the beauty and value in the overlooked. All the leaves to her are “so precious.” And aren’t they really? Aren’t we all?
So, you and me, let’s find the beauty in the gray. Let’s pick up and display a perfectly imperfect leaf. Let’s find someone overlooked to see and love. And let’s cherish and give thanks for all we have. Isn’t that real beauty? Isn’t it incredible how when we’re grateful for all we have, we have all we need?
Since we all know that a watched pot never boils, prepare your tea cups and/or teapot while you’re waiting.
Usually, you can start with your favorite Earl Grey blend and add 1/2 teaspoon of dried lavender buds. Since this blend already includes lavender, I’m omitting that step. You want to have a strong tea base, so you’ll double the strength you’d normally make your tea. Put 2 teaspoons tea (or 2 tea bags) per cup. For my two teacup pot, I’m putting in 4 teaspoons. Do you like my Ukrainian teaspoon? I love it! It’s a treasure. 
If your water isn’t boiling yet, go ahead and put your choice of sweetener to taste in each cup. I’d usually use raw honey, but since we’re out, I’m using organic sugar. 
While the tea is steeping, steam milk. You can use whole milk or any nut milk. Heat about 1 cup of milk until just before it boils. You should notice a foam layer on top. Stir the milk to keep from scorching. 
There are unique circumstances where mothers must work outside the home. I get that–if it’s an absolute necessity and not just a selfish ambition. If insufficient income is the issue, are there budget cuts that could be made? I’m not here to guilt-trip anyone, but I am also not going to be shamed because I choose to stay home and nurture and train my child. Unfortunately, “when mothers are regularly absent, their children suffer profoundly” (Roys, 2017). Roys goes on to say “experts in child development now recognize that a young child’s need for her mother is as strong as the need for food, so separating from her for extended periods of time can be traumatic.” That research was eye-opening for me. I realize I have a tremendous responsibility to my daughter. While I miss nursing, and always planned to be a “career girl,” being a stay at home mother has helped me embrace my feminine role in ways I never imagined. I love it! 
Hearth & Hive 