I adore my children.
I don’t mean I adore them as in they are my babies and so of course I think they are awesome, spectacular, beautiful, etc. I mean I really adore them, who they are, their personalities and their opinions and the fact that they are separate-from-me people who I like hanging out with. Last night I sat in my oldest daughters bedroom while she organized all of her drawers and her closet. We just talked and sorted and giggled and we were friends. It was really just lovely. And my son, he is hilarious with his intense facial expressions, and he is passionate and fierce and he loves to cuddle and sniff my face and I pray he gets a wife who likes that. Then there is Caroline, a ball of sass inside a four-year-old body. She is all hands-on-hips and fairies and dancing and sweet as pie one minute and demanding and saucy the next. But they are all so cool; weaved so interestingly by their Father. It’s a wonder.
It took a long time for me to get here, to this season of rest and of enjoyment of my children. I mean, I want to hang out with them.
I feel like we’re in this cocoon stage for a while before they burst out and want to fly while I balance keeping them on the ground awhile longer and letting them shake their colors and soar. The teen years. Which I don’t fear at all. I like teenagers, and I think that if I can just hold on tight and make it through, we’ll get to the other side, when their sane, and in their mid-twenties. But obviously I have no idea because I’m not even close to that yet; cocoon, remember. We’re growing together, building character and putting light to dark and learning grace and…well, all the things I suppose we’ll be doing for the rest of our lives. So really, we’re setting foundation; we’re putting handprints into the concrete.
Life is at peace right now. There is much work to do, much cultivating of little souls, but there is rest.
This is the pay-off, the first pay-off.
We are through the sleepless nights, the diapers, the toddler tantrums, and the mommy-has-to-do-everything stage. Seven years in with the youngest being four; there is reprieve.
Thank you, Jesus. Thank you truly.
But the reprieve is only for a season, really only a moment to take a deep breath, reflect upon, and begin again. A hospital stay after the birth, a warm day in the middle of winter, a full-nights sleep with a newborn. A moment, by God’s grace, to catch up so to speak.
And now I’m off to begin again and work and keep at it knowing I’ll make mistakes, but I’ll do some things really right. And when those teen years come, I’ll be ready. Ready with grace and listening ears and history and long nights in bedrooms as one of them organizes. I’ll be ready, because I’m here, and I’m not giving up, and I never never never will, so help me God.
Today, if you could use some encouragement, some help in these wild mother years, just enter below to win a copy of Desperate – Hope for the Mom Who Needs to Breathe, along with a pretty little tea cup and a copy of the just-today released Desperate DVD (great for small groups). After you’ve entered, you might want to head over here where there is another special giveaway (think maid service)!Leave a Comment