Here’s to the Saturday mornings—the part of the week that kind of marks the seasons of our lives. I’ve had so many types of Saturdays, each just a glimpse of what life holds at the time.

There were Saturdays spent sleeping in and putting off chores after a long week of school. And some Saturdays waking up on the floor in a friend’s living room after talking and prank calling all night.

I’ve spent many Saturday mornings walking through superstitious pre-game routines on the way to the gym, eating just enough breakfast to fuel me for the game, but not enough to upset my nervous stomach.

Some Saturday mornings were spent recovering from the Friday night before, heading off to Panda Express to recap the events of a night out with college friends. For a short season, Saturday mornings were for long runs in my half-marathon training program.

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There have been Saturday mornings snuggling with my new husband before tackling house projects for the day. And our infamous “two movie Saturdays” when the world was shut down in a pandemic.

I’ve had Saturdays planned around watching a big game with a grocery trip just for football snacks, Saturday mornings hitting the boat launch early for the best fishing of the day, and Saturday mornings with two leashed dogs hiking in the woods.

In the Midwest, most of us spend summer Saturday mornings doing anything outside before it just gets too stinking hot.

These days, though, Saturday mornings are by far my favorite. I didn’t know how special a Saturday morning could be. Saturdays with a baby—our first baby—are a thing of dreams. Getting up on her time, soaking in her presence without the worries of the week. Not trying to juggle work or put a timeframe on feeding, changing, or getting us both ready for the day.

As a working mom, Saturday mornings with my sweet girl are special. It’s the one time each week when all I have to do is take in our time together, watching her grow right before my very eyes. The slowness of these Saturday mornings is so sweet. It’s a season marked by a quiet house, hot tea in hand, soaking in the miracle of her existence.

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I know the seasons will shift again soon. As she becomes more active, we’ll spend Saturdays cleaning a house played in all week. God-willing, we’ll eventually spend hungry Saturday mornings with more than just her mouth to feed. There will be Saturdays of assigning chores, chauffeuring to activities, and hopefully, one day staking out the best bleacher seats.

These sweet, slow Saturdays won’t last forever. I have a feeling they’ll fade away before I even realize they’re gone. So here’s to the Saturday mornings. For me, they mark a season of answered prayers and abounding blessings. And here’s to your Saturday mornings, whatever season they may mark. May we all soak in each second because Saturday mornings won’t look like this for long.