And I’m recognizing the signs. I’ve done this once before with your sister. She’s twenty-one now and on her own. Even back then, I wasn’t ready. And I thought it would be easier the second time around. But feels so new and fresh again. I can’t find my feet and I feel so wobbly.
It’s time to let go and I’m not ready. But you are. That’s the way of motherhood. Letting go when we don’t want to. I know it’s time. I know you’re growing and becoming.
And sometimes it’s hard for you but more for me; oh darling, hear me out.
For years, I never wanted kids. I didn’t want to be tied down. I wanted to travel the world. I wanted to see the dreams in my heart come to life. I didn’t want to give up my freedom. But, then I dreamed about you.
But that’s the point isn’t it? Friendships are built on gritty, messy, imperfect everyday moments. Friendship like doesn’t happen overnight. And it reminds me what I tell my kids often, “The day you plant a seed is not the day you eat its fruit.” Friendship and community are like that. It’s built on a series of 1,000 little everyday moments, taking the time to invest in someone else. It’s built on answering the phone at 2 a.m. when you’re already exhausted from a teething toddler or a teen who missed curfew. It’s built on showing up for 40th birthday parties, and Juice Plus events.
It’s been said that everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die. I’ve found the same to be true about marriage. Everybody wants to be married but no one wants to do the work. Having been married nearly 21 years I’m often asked how we make it work. Here’s the secret: Marriage isn’t…
You really want to focus on the things that are important. You really want to spend time with God. But with everything you’ve got going on, you’re just not sure how to make that happen! You’re busy, overwhelmed, and what you really want is to HEAR GOD’S VOICE AND FOLLOW HIS LEAD
Tearing and mending is the best way to describe death and loss and I’m learning we can’t really put life back together again until we’ve faced the coming apart.
As I wandered from room to room, feeling the cool breeze on my skin, I realized marriage sometimes feels like this house. Familiar, comfortable, yet tight and wholly uncomfortable. And the very idea of opening a door to my husband feels like a vulnerable and risky move. Keeping the storm windows shut feels like a much safer venture. Especially after a fight or misunderstanding or hurt feelings. Keeping everything sealed feels much softer. During times of conflict our hearts close up, it curls itself into a tight ball. A closed heart is stuffed with selfishness, faulty assumptions, and judgement.