I bounced a fussing baby on my hip as I hurried around the house, collecting a bottle, burp cloth and change of clothes. Glancing at the clock, I realized that we needed to be left in 5 minutes if we were going to make it to soccer practice on time! One child was still looking for their water bottle and the other was upset that their favorite shorts were no where to be found. My patience was wearing thin, and the baby's whines changes to wails. "Just hurry up and put SOMETHING on!" I snapped to the frustrated 5 year old. "We don't have time to find your shorts! Put something on! Anything." Inwardly, I wondered at my sanity for thinking it would be fun for the children to play soccer. Getting out of the house with a baby in tow requires some effort, not to mention having to make sure both children have all their soccer gear along!
Fifteen minutes later, we pulled into the parking lot and unloaded what felt like a days' worth of belongings. We slid into a bench, just in the nick of time, and I let out a sigh of relief! After the children headed to the field, I began chatting with another mom who was sitting near me. Her youngest daughter, who was playing soccer, was 11 years old. She also had two older children, in their twenties. She smiled wistfully at me and my baby, who was chewing anything she could get her hands on. “I remember those days”, she said. We talked about homeschooling and how quickly the years fly by. Her children are now in college, miles away from her home.
She seemed to have happy memories of those busy years when they were little, and she was their mother and teacher. I tried to picture my life in 15 years, when my oldest is 22, and suddenly I wanted to just freeze time! The chaos of leaving for a soccer game felt smaller, somehow, as my perspective on this season momentarily shifted. Because that’s the reality: I don’t get it all. One day, my house will stay cleaner and I won’t be constantly changing diapers, breaking up fights and teaching letters. But I won’t get those sweet childish hugs and see the wonder in their eyes when they start to read or watch them take their first step! This is my season, the hard and the wonderful, and I get to choose how I live it.
As the leaves turned from golden hues and fell to the ground, leaving naked trees behind them, I found myself resisting the change. I’m not ready for the cold to set in, and the darkness that comes so early in the evening! I longed for color and beauty for just a few more weeks, please. But I don’t choose these things; I choose what I do with the long winter days. Instead, I think about how to declutter the junk that magically collects in closets and drawers, and find a few minutes to paint or play piano when I would have been working outside in the summer. I embrace the urge to slow down and focus on creating a cozy space indoors. Each season can be beautiful, although I have to convince myself of the fact quite frequently in January and February!
One thing I have learned in my 35 years of life is that whether good or bad, no season lasts forever. Motherhood - and all of life - is also part of the cycle of seasons: always changing, never stagnant. And while I have moments that I would love to escape my reality, (aka: fighting siblings and babies that don’t nap) there are so many others that I wish I could capture forever.
So I lean into this season, with its sacrifices as well as its wonder, praying for grace and for eyes to see the blessings that are all around me. This is my season, and I embrace it, with joy!
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