Basking

No deep thoughts here tonight, just savoring the time with my two precious kiddos.  We went to the dry cleaners yesterday and the woman who helped us encouraged me to enjoy them while they're young.  Same thing today with Hudson running up to a random elderly lady at McDonald's.  It seems like every time I go out in public someone says that to me, usually with such wistfulness. "They grow up so fast." 

And in truth, I AM enjoying these days.  Yes, we are far busier than I thought we would be at this stage in life.  And no, the laundry and housework are never caught up to my satisfaction.  And yes, I am ashamed to admit that I can get angy over insignificant and trivial things.  And yes, there are times I am grateful to have Steve take them out into the back yard and wear them out a little while I bask in the silence.

But truly, in my heart, I love these days.  I love the 1001 weird questions that Karissa asks me every day.  I love the wet, sloppy kisses Hudson plants on my cheek.  Or my arm.  Or any available body part.  I love seeing Karissa get so excited about something she can barely spit it out.  Or the joy on Hudson's face when I come to get him on Sunday morning after two hours apart.

I love these kids.  Part of me is afraid that it will change.  That they will get hurt, or grow up, or, or, or . . .

And part of me knows it WILL change.  If none of my "worst fears" happen, they will at the very least become "all grown up."  (Karissa promises she will live in a pink house when this happens.)

But the other part of me says, "So what?"  So what if tomorrow is not as perfect as today?  If God sends hard things into our lives? If Karissa turns 4, and then 5, and then 6 (as she has threatened to do)?  So what? Even if the future is not the same as today, I can still enjoy today.  And by God's grace, I am choosing to do that.  Not perfectly.  But on purpose.  Even if I ruined a whole load of laundry and didn't get to the pharmacy and the children's patience wore out before my shopping was done and there are dirty dishes on my counter.  I had a wonderful day today. 

Thank you, God, for golden moments.  Thank you for gracing me with the task of raising Karissa and Hudson.  Thank you for their smiles and laughs, for ice cream sundaes and blue jello.  Thank you for using me to teach Hudson to come when I call and for allowing me the privilege of teaching Karissa that God made everything.  Thank you for putting me here now with these people.

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Many things can wait; the child cannot.
Now is the time his bones are being formed,
his mind is being developed.
To him, we cannot say tomorrow,
his name is today.

-Gabriela Mistral

Eat Your Noodles

Going to the playground was the hardest thing I did today.

No, taking my innocent 15-month-old son in his adorable short overalls wasn't hard.  It was walking away from the eyes of my three-year-old standing in the doorway.  She desperately wanted to come.  The last few bites of chicken and noodles sat mockingly a few feet away, reminding her of her choice to not finish eating her supper.  In the end, it was a very painful lesson for her.  Of course, being three, the pain will diminish over time.  The playground will still be there tomorrow.  Joy comes in the morning.  But I hope the lesson remains.  The lesson about choices, and their consequences.

But for me, the mom, the grief is felt on my side, too.  Holding my sobbing girl as we sat on the floor together, mourning the consequences of her choice.  If it had been ME making the choice, I would have chosen the path that led away from pain.

But God gives us the power to make our own choices.  He takes His sovereign hand and holds it back while wanting what is best for us.  Sometimes we choose not to eat our supper.  But when we do make that choice, His heart is grieved beyond comprehension.  And He is waiting, longing for us to run to Him for forgiveness and healing.  "Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you."  Joy comes in the morning.

You know that saying that goes, "This hurts me more than it hurts you"?  Well, that goes for God, too.  Our sin grieves Him more than it grieves us.  We didn't understand as kids what we know now as parents.  Let's strive together not to grieve our Heavenly Father, who loves us beyond our comprehension.