Monday, September 16, 2013


A friend. Nearly forty. Still single. Whose Facebook is exploded with pictures of her and friends…at bars…dining…traveling…etc. We rejoice with her at her seemingly fun-filled life.

Well-meaning, I’m sure. But one comment bridled me the wrong way.

“So glad you’ve finally decided not to have any more children after this one. You can start having fun!”


When something finally happens, it is like everything up to that point was just waiting, surviving and watching for any sign that change is here to rescue the situation.

I am not wandering. I am not lost. I’m not waiting to find the Promised Land of milk and honey.
In fact, I already found it. My reality is very full and fun and even on the bad days, I’m not in a desert. I’m living. I’m loving. I’m being loved. I’m playing. I’m working. I’m often laughing. I’m cooking. I’m alive!
Tasks like laundry, nose-wiping, errand running, paying bills, juggling school activities, and job clocking are not burdens. They are ingredients for our fulfilled lives – for our spirituality. No doubt there are times that I crave the quiet hours because I can’t see through the haze of demands. But don’t be confused -- I am passionately wild about my family, even when the majority of our waking hours are spent in the everydayness of it all.

Quite honestly, I decline a lot of invitations outside our home life -- I’m doing my best to relish these youthful years with my husband – dating, wrestling, riding bikes. These baby years, these elementary years, these junior high years, for we have been told time and again how precious it all is, and how fleeting. And intrinsically, we know it to be true. And though they’re right, what scares me the most is that, deep down, no matter what, I know these are truly the best days of my life. I know I’m going to one day miss every single part of this. So much.

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