Because I Know, This Won’t Always Be

She waited up for me…and I found her asleep on my pillow, still and quiet, sleeping next to daddy. Her, my last one. My baby of 5, and she had been wanting me.

And I know this won’t always be…

I scoop her up and walk to her room, and I pause there at the maroon chair–this chair that held me as I rocked each of my 5 babies in the wee hours … so many hours in that chair. I remember rocking for countless 2am feedings, and how we always melted away in sleep together while rocking in that chair.

I would so often awake with the next feeding almost upon us–waking in frustration that I had wasted precious sleep time by falling asleep upright. Oh how I ached for uninterrupted sleep. And in my desperate sleep-deprived state I hastily blew past the moments, because of all the arduous moments strung together without end.

And I know this won’t always be…

I hold her body close to mine. With her so relaxed and asleep, I sink into that maroon chair once more, and I rock. Such a privilege to rock tonight. Her body presses against mine and I put my cheek against her head, and I rest my head back against the chair and I remember.

I remember falling asleep here with my babies in my arms … so many times wishing for the next stage to come. Anticipating the future freedom: time to myself, uninterrupted sleep, less demands. And I remember how over the years,

I’ve yearned for the future to come and been irritated by its slowness.

I‘ve dismissed enthusiasm, playdoh fun, books presented, and bedtime routines … inconvenienced by them all.

I’ve rushed through homework, and meals, and talks, and hugs.

And I’ve  failed to savor the present …these moments here in the now, faithfully waiting for me over and over again.

And I know this won’t always be…

I feel her breaths, I hear their rhythms, I hold her tight, and this Mother’s day eve, I remember. I remember how this mama job is long, and yet how its moments are so short. I remember my firstborn, now 15, becoming a man, and standing so much taller than me.

Oh how I wish I could do many moments over. How I wish I would have slowed and captured each of them instead of rushing and racing by. And as I rock, and breathe, and hold my littlest, it is ever before me–so very clear this night … Why has it taken me so long to really absorb it?

Now … right now is what matters.

These moments that present themselves to me for the taking, day after day after day.

These moments begging me to take them captive–to gather them and use each one to build intentional connectedness, this connectedness that will be the foundation of our bonds.

I’ve SO failed. I’ve acted a fool … because the moments are so fleeting. And if I’m not careful I WILL run out of time.

I know this now: It requires intentionality to build these foundational bonds. Me bonded tightly to my children who God knit within me, because it is our bond that will endure our journey of this lifetime.

Now is the time, these moments to be captured and seared on my heart and on theirs too … united in life, living every moment to its fullest. No more room for rushing or haste.

Because I know this won’t always be…

In the shadow of Mother’s Day, may you slow down and enjoy the hard moments just as much as the ones that make you smile. I’m praying for you!

{I wrote these words last Mother’s Day eve after returning late from the hospital, rocking in the maroon chair and thinking long and hard about my life. And it was these reflective thoughts that began my journey toward homeschooling. This Mother’s Day so much has changed in one year and I’m so thankful for the intentional relationship we are cultivating as a family … step by step, no matter how arduous, one moment at a time.}

Continuing on, in the counting of One Thousand Gifts {#1431-1445} with Ann and this community, and the Joy Dare of 2012…with May’s printable.

#1431 Following the Compassion Bloggers in Tanzania

#1432 Sponsors acquired for impoverished children around the world … and prayer for more to be sponsored

#1433 A letter from our Compassion daughter, Juliana, in Ecuador, and our letters mailed to her and to Gabriela in El Salvador

#1434 Pink roses in the sunshine

#1435 The return of Pomegranate yogurt at Pinkberry

#1436 Sunshine shining through the dark clouds  and reminding me there is always light and hope beyond our current darkness

#1437 The ability to exercise, even though I loathe it

#1438 Ann’s Mother’s Day posts…the full week of them

#1439 Whimsical wispy flowers in the Starbucks planter

#1440 A clean car

#1441 Swimming with the kids

#1442 Memorizing Matthew 5 with my two children, the reviewing and the quizzing and the reciting

#1443 Breakfast in bed

#1444 Pink roses in a vase, cards with heartfelt words, lunch and dinner and laughter and fun … a Mother’s day full of joy

#1445 That I don’t have to work to earn my salvation, that it is a gift of God, and that there is nothing I can do that will make God love me any more than He already does

 

**Linking with Playdates at the Wellspring

Related posts:

Undone How to Be Still and Trust, Even In the Pain Seeing the Gifts in the Mess