I stumbled upon a post from 4 years ago that stopped me in my tracks. The days are indeed long, but the year are short.
God continues to refine, mold and reshape my heart through this crazy motherhood thing, and through the life and love of this little Bean right here, now eight years old…
Maybe it’s because I’ve got Jim Brickman playing softly on Pandora while I frittle away, but I’m feeling awfully nostalgic this evening.
No, I’m not pregnant. (I peed on a stick to prove it. One line, folks).
But today, my mommy heart is full. content. in love.
My heart swells at the mere thought of my sleeping babies, and for a woman who has not blossomed into the patient, graciously nurturing role of motherhood naturally or easily (or so it feels on most days), this is a rare treasure.
Most evenings, with hubby off to work and loin-fruit dreaming, I just recover, soaking up every delicious minute of solitude I can. Bedtime is sacred. Not because of the process, but because of the product: sleeping children.
But tonight. I’m very aware of how fast my little babes are growing.
It could have had something to do with the videos of birthdays gone by that I stumbled upon while cleaning out old files from my hard drive.
Or because I just found a bulb of garlic in the toy chest, and a toy car in my closet.
Or maybe it’s this photo I found during my purge…
Maybe.
Maybe it’s because Bug has been extra lavish with his sweet smooches lately. Or because as Spring blooms fully and the promise of Summer whispers, I’m more aware of the fact that our Bean starts preschool this Fall.
Seriously. Just 2 days. 7 hours each. And I’m a wreck. But a happy, excited one. Really. Sort of.
Maybe it’s because I intentionally took more time to play today. I mean, really play. The back-on-the-floor, feet-in-the-air, accomplishing-absolutely-nothing-of-worldly-substance sort of play that causes belly laughs and eye twinkles.
And it was glorious.
It could be that Bean decided to forego her bath with Bug tonight in favor of a late night shower with mommy, and it was hilariously precious in all the best of awkward ways. Oh, what a hoot this mischievous little lass is. And indeed, slippery when wet!
As we dried out, lotioned up and brushed through our sweet smelling selves, the giggles were a plenty.
And I loved every single minute of our “girl time”.
What a gift she is to our family. I’m learning so much about life, and about myself – often hard, heart-naked lessons – through her sweet, childlike presence in my day.
How much I have yet to learn.
It’s a good thing she’s not even 4 yet. She has a lot to teach me before she moves out and gets married.
About grace. selflessness. patience. spontaneity. bravery. forgiveness. love.
Maybe this nostalgic night is due to a growing awareness that being a mother is more extraordinary, more noble, and more satisfying than I ever thought possible.
Maybe.
Oh, how the warmth of a grateful momma heart can melt the sharp edges off my impatient, super- poopy-mom days. That was Friday, by the way. And most of Saturday.
Grace. Just grace.
Coincidentally, her middle name. Grace.
Yes, Papa knew exactly what He was doing when he planted this wee babe in my belly in the Fall of 2006.
She’s just what I need. On the beautiful, most playful of days. And on the bad.
A beautiful tool in the hand of a loving sculptor, ever reshaping and molding her momma.
How I love you, sweet girl.
{Maybe you’re the reason why. just you. just maybe.}
