Sitting in Chick Fil A, I watched a mom with three toddlers pass out shoes and juggle the voices and requests of her little ones.
Glancing at my almost four year-old daughter and six, seven and eight year-old sons, I wondered when exactly we had moved beyond the phase of life where managing the basic care of little children was my biggest problem.
There mine sat, silently reading comic books from kids’ meals. They get their own shoes now. They wipe their own mouths and go request refills of lemonade without me. We have long talks about problems in school, people they see, and birds migrating through Austin.
Seeing the other mom direct a two year-old toward the door while awkwardly carrying a car seat, I missed the season of toddlers. It seems crazy to admit, but there was a lump in my throat and a slight heaviness in my heart.
Later that night, I peeked in on my daughter before heading to bed myself.
She is so beautiful.
Her breathing was even and relaxed. She looked so small in her big bed, under the pink and white blanket my mom sewed for her.
I sat and prayed. I prayed that God would make me a good mama to her. I prayed that her heart would be open to mine, that my love would reach deeply and securely into her heart as her character forms.
Then in my mind I saw a parade of the future. I saw her on sports teams, beaming with smiles while holding a trophy. I saw her shopping for dresses for special occasions. I saw her laughing with the joy that youth affords to those who live in free nations. I saw her growing up, becoming the girl and then the woman that God made her to be.
I looked down at the eyelashes resting on her rosy cheeks and I told that sleeping beauty, “I was made to be your mama.”
As they grow through the years, I grow, too. They change and so do I.
Hard days sometimes give way to harder days that eventually empty us all into seasons of laughter and the knowledge that these moments of love pass too quickly.
The next morning we bustled through the door to the car, I watched eight feet stomp and skip and run down the path to the driveway.
Someday I will meander out this front door alone. I will check my space-phone to see if they have sent me a hologram message, or something equally amazing.
Freedom will come too quickly, and yet I will relish having Mr. Fantastic to myself again.
I will remember the feeling of a stiff newborn cradled in my arms. I will still be able to hear the emphatic “NO!” of a toddler voice. I will miss the feeling of a boy sliding his hand into mine as we walk into Target.
By a miracle only God can explain, the love will never run out, and there will be space to love daughters-in-law and a son-in-law and all the beautiful grandchildren in our future.
In the midst of all these comings and goings, with all these people and change, we will live and work and seek the One who paves the path before us.
Because really, we were made for Him, the God who is love. There are many steps between me and eternity, but He made the way possible if I will follow His paths.
I was made by Him, for Him, and in Him all my days are complete.
Beautifully written!