Changes
As we are raising littles, our homes are filled with little feet pitter-pattering around the house; little arms reaching up for help; open minds and hearts ready to be filled.
It’s all so exhausting, but all so exhilarating.
Our mornings start full force, unending until we fall into bed at night.
Our call so clear.
We teach, we speak, we say. We discipline, we plan, we execute, we manage.
We instill, we correct, we train, we organize.
We DO- molding, shaping, leading.
We are the managers of our homes and families.
Always active. On the go. On the move. Pushing forward.
The moments are banked into a beautiful account, full of laughter, joy, and memories.
This is what we were created for.
I am rarely alone, rarely quiet with my thoughts, for their needs are unending and my mind is filled with words that need said to them, lessons that need taught, directions that need given.
And then a shift.
Time passes and all the magical newness of that season is slowly replaced by a new one.
Change.
You can’t stop it or slow it down. You can’t control it or reminisce it away.
All that doing, all that action- it slows down and you find yourself looking around asking “now what?”
We enter into a place where we must rest in the fruits of our labor and trust the One they belong to.
The hustle and bustle morphs into something new.
A time to be still, to sit, to pray.
A time to surrender; to release.
As we move into the peripheral of our children’s daily life, we become a presence, but not THE presence.
We used to constantly say and do, now we must pray and be still.
It is HIM they walk with now, it is HIS voice they must tune into and hear, not mine.
My voice must now grow quieter, so that His voice becomes louder.
And as they change and grow, so do I.
They are looking forward, into their futures, full of hope and anticipation.
I am left gazing into the rearview- analyzing every moment, praying God’s grace over it all.
I find myself mourning the passing of the best days behind us, reveling in the amazing memories and moments, each one the most incredible gift.
There is a future in there for me too, somewhere, but for the first time it looks unclear, like looking out on a landscape through a clouded lens, trying to bring it into focus.
And in the blur, He begins to bring clarity- a purpose, a plan, a hope.
This season is not yet finished, I know. And when it is, the next will be waiting for me to step into with boldness and excitement.
So, while I must accept that seasons change, that life changes, I am so grateful that his purposes never do.