The rain is falling in a steady stream, beside me the warmth of my third child melts into my side. I am confronted for a moment with the stages of life. The individuality of each expectation. I often find myself envying working mothers. The role of caretaker and stay at home mom was never my ‘plan’ in life. As my children have grown, I’ve enjoyed each phase of greater freedom, excited for the moment I would get my days back. I had a vision of working, picking them up from school, and seeing all things come together in perfect order.
Of course this was the exact moment I found out I was carrying our third. This little sleepy doe eyed one, that snuggles in this brief period of quiet. I’ve struggled with the joy and frustration of her arrival. I wanted her, dreamt of her, and let it go: just when she came. I have watched my plans fall into disarray as her little hands methodically undo my carefully constructed ideals. It is this moment that I want to share with you. This season, that can seem to stretch on indefinitely. Yet, far too soon finds its end.
Despite our hoped for outcomes, life has a way of twisting and confounding our great plans. It takes apart what we strive to build, and often what we give the least care to becomes our greatest triumphs. As a human I have found that I am often obsessed with what I should be doing to create something great and monumental. I want to fill the world with my grandiose splendor. I want to be bigger, better, and more than enough. Yet, here I am: held in the tension of motherhood, the demands of my brood, the expectation of my mate; all at war with my wishes, my dreams. It can destroy even the strongest of beings, when in response we either continue the struggle for our voice or give it the respite it so desperately craves.
It tends to be in these seasons of breaking, letting go, and settling in, that we develop our greatest strengths. Despite what I envisioned, my life is the perfect reflection of a greater plan. I will watch as others live out their dreams, and find their balance. I will observe, as what I have ached for, comes easy to the hands of those who did little to earn it. Here in this place, when envy pulls at the heart, and depression lurks as a darkened cloud on my horizon, I simply let go and bless.
Bless the joys of those around me. Delight in their triumphs, love their successes. Sing praise at the greatness of all they desire coming to pass. And here, when I want to cry out why not me, where is mine - let love cover this hungry heart and stir up the grace that surrounds this season.
I am not in a time of showing off my great skills or accomplishments. Here I walk head down, eyes on the hands of those curled in mine. Asking that I let this be enough. That I not need to prove or adore myself as greater than I should. But, show them how to curl daisies in their hair and run free through the meadows of childhood. It is a season. It drags on at times without end. Until one day, it doesn’t and then when my dreams are at their most full and I am living the life I longed to accomplish, these moments will echo a haunting gong through the halls of memory.