I love pockets and deplore the fact that so many women's clothes are made without pockets. Pockets frequently hold happy little surprises. Have you ever stuck your hand in a coat pocket, fishing for a pair of gloves and come away with a ten dollar bill you'd forgotten you'd tucked inside?
Yes, I love pockets. I love pockets of time, those small bits and pieces of minutes and hours that are unexpectedly free of demands and responsibilities. What mother has not rejoiced in an extra thirty minutes of quiet when her children sleep in for a change? And what child has not rejoiced in a snowday from school?
I also love pockets of space. At one time, our house was bursting at the seams. Pockets of space were difficult, if not impossible, to find. I occasionally used to hide in the bathroom, taking a book with me and pretending I was taking a bath. (All right, I admit it. I was hiding.)
Pockets. I wonder if the Father Himself did not create these little pockets of time and space, for surely they are blessings in each of our lives.
So, for today, I am grateful for pockets, wherever they are found.