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I have a 3-year-old daughter and a 6-month-old daughter. They are sleeping now and I just went into check on them. Sometimes I like to just stand in their rooms and listen to their rhythmic breathing as my eyes adjust to the darkness and I see their small forms laying peacefully in bed. It's almost 1:00am and I know that in about six hours our day will start again. I am exhausted, but content with my time spent with them today. It was nothing special. In fact, we left the house only once to get the mail at the end of the driveway. And we did it in our socks and flip flops because we couldn't find our shoes. It was definitely a teaching moment for Abigail about this particular fashion faux pas.
I smile as I catch myself say that our day was nothing special, because that's far from the truth. Our time eating, potty training, reading books, cuddling, counting, playing word games, playing, laughing, and talking was precious. I am blessed to have been able to be with my girls all day and wouldn't trade it for anything. How grateful I am for the time spent together!
When I have a chance to steal away, I am able to step back from the busyness of my life and see it in light of eternity. Having an eternal perspective changes so much in the present. And sometimes I imagine meeting God face to face when my time on earth is done. What will I tell him I did with the life he gave me? I want to be able to tell him that, by his grace, I was able to fulfill the role he created me for and was a good steward of the lives he entrusted to me. I'm not saying that nothing else is important, but how could I tell the one who created me that I didn't live out my calling as a wife and mother to its full potential? Sure, I believe he's called me to other things as well, but in no way do I want any of those to trump this primary role. What kind of excuse would I try to come up with as to why I put something in its place or made it just as important? I think any excuse I could come up with now would seem so incredibly lame when face to face with God.
I've been told countless times by wise women that have gone before me that these moments go by so quickly. It's not what they say that gets me, but the look in their eyes. A bittersweet longing for days past. Sometimes I can tell they drift into their memories for a split second. And it seems that they always want to say more, but can't seem to find the words to explain the immense joy of raising a child. But I can see it in their eyes, pleading with me not to take it for granted, to cherish the mundane, and to be present in body and mind with my babies. And that I shall do.
