I was stunned, stopped by that small word staring at me. How many times had I passed by it before?
Now, in a quiet house, I see unfolding time without the blur of the craziness of insistence. I look back un-harried and recognize the precious calling of those years.
I closed my eyes, knowing I would open them to you curled up beside me. What I did not know was that this was our last time.
Yesterday we passed by a memorial. Flowers planted under a fence line next to a crooked wooden cross. A name, and “6.21.18”. All those strangers were right.
I spent a lot of my mommy time wishing for my children’s finish lines. When they finally sleep through the night. When they are out of diapers. When they are old enough to dress themselves.
We would fumble, I was certain. Sometimes dancing is nothing but mess as we sloppily maneuver around one another until we fall into step together.
It really was terrible timing. I tried to tell God that. But then He whispered this into my heart….
I had not cried that way in an ultrasound for nine hundred and one days. But these tears were very different.
Raising kids stirs something deep in our souls — an innate knowing that our time is finite. Taking my kids outside in creation, I’m discovering how to stretch our time and pack it to the brim with meaning. God’s creativity provides the riches of resources for teaching the next generation who He is and how He loves us. Join our adventure and discover inspiration and resources for refusing rush, creating habits of rest, living intentionally, and making the most of this beautiful life!