“To myself I am only a child playing on the beach, while vast oceans of truth lie undiscovered before me.”
Before I was married and became a mother, I yearned for an established life. I wanted the solid shoulders of a family that I’d helped to create, not the vaporous breath of a girl waiting to be old enough, wise enough, ready enough to have those things. I also had something else before I was married and became a mother.
Oodles of time to ponder just how much I wanted these things.
Again, I had oodles of time. Oodles. Not just seconds, not just lunch breaks, oodles.
Sure, sure, sure, I worked (I was a teacher) and I had friends, a boyfriend turned fiance (now handsome husband), and family. There were things that I enjoyed doing, like keeping a teacher resource website, reading, going out to eat and shop. As a passionate person who is frequently impassioned (because, yes, you can be both passionate and impassioned separately…one sometimes being far more preferable for those around you than the other) I simply cannot abide being in limbo. The holding period between being a girl waiting for her life to start, albeit how cliche, and a woman whose responsibilities include a husband and three daughters was one of the more anxious periods of my life.
Ungrateful much? Yep.
Now that I’m blogging at 11:36 pm, still dressed, with possibly terrible (three iced coffees today) breath, potentially little hope of brushing these teeth before midnight (currently attached to a very light sleeping baby), and stuck like a lazy contortionist in a position that said adorable baby and this laptop forced me into but aren’t very obligingly helping me out of, I understand the importance of appreciating each moment of your life. There’s such beauty and such joy to be found in the waiting periods of life, in the lobbies that precede our years of momentum. The strands of twelve months that fly by as a mother really whip past quickly. I find myself wanting to pull these minutes around my body, wrap them closely against my skin and breathe them in. I want to make every single second of my family’s life a part of me.
Is there anyone who really wants to make their waiting years a part of them? Not so much. Mostly we just want to conquer them.
Instead of labeling any period of our lives as the “before”, we should think of them as without any label. They’re not periods; they’re just lives. Some people don’t get to the after part. Some people fly away to glory before they get to hold the baby that they were longing for, or even the man. Their childhood dreams are never realized, and instead of seeing their youthful face in pictures as they reminisce in years that gallop by, they touch the face of their Savior with less years behind them than they ever intended.
Every moment is a blessing. Every sunrise – every sun ray – is a gift. His mercies are new each morning.
I’ll be thirty-one-years-old this July, and instead of feeling like I’m the true adult that being in your thirties certainly seems to indicate (apply that one to my husband, will ya? Love you, honey!), I’m going to remember that the freshness of this day doesn’t lie in having achieved the life that I couldn’t wait to get. It’s also not in the sparkle of this youth that I still possess or in the warmth of the knowledge that there’s prayerfully still so much life ahead of me, the twilight of its journey still so, so far from the shore.
This moment is from God, and it’s this moment that matters.
And I am so thankful to be striving to live a life where He is all that does.