It’s windy and cold; the old windows rattle and outside, tree branches whip and wail. I’m thankful for the warm room, the food cooking, the staying-at-home. There is nowhere I need to be and nothing I need to be doing, other than this. This mother math. This counting of children and minutes and the blessings of this room.
And as the children search out the common denominators and multiply and solve for x, I think of how it all adds up to one. I think of the three-in-one, and the two-become-one and the addition of all the babies and how they all add up to one family.
I hold it all: the children, the day, the home, the family. Mother math. Addition of the heart.
Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord is one.