Moms, do you ever go through seasons where you find yourself falling into a state of deeper love and appreciation for being a parent?
It’s been a gift for me recently, this new sense of wonder. My eyes opening wider just slightly, my heart brimming and soaking up the things mundane like never before. This ethereal tug that every day seems to have? Yea, I’m noticing it more and more. The music in the sound of my kids laughing. The glow of a happy home. The magic that is the steam emanating off of a fresh cup of coffee – yea, there is definitely something heavenly about that.
I’m a nostalgic kind of person. I love rehashing “old times.” There is comfort in it for me. Most creatures can’t remember into last week, let alone yesterday. But humans? We have a deep sense of recollection. We hold the ability to store up treasures in our heart that help us connect the dots of our lives on a rainy day, during the times when life is a bit more unforgiving. We mourn if/when we lose those memories, either to the effects of time on our bodies or to disease. We instinctively know that memories are something to be cherished.
And God commands us to remember. Remember His word spoken, His promises foreshadowed. To write such things on our heart.
His commands to memorize His word are like insurance for when the harvest is gaunt. Because no matter what, if you have the truth, if you have hope, then you may just have everything. Memories are almost the same for me. I’m not talking about a quiet refusal to let the past be the past. It’s a contentment with the past where you can find a comfort in it that I speak of.
The days are only worth committing to memory if we commit ourselves fully to them.
Then they are worth remembering.
Then they are worth recalling.
I wonder what I would consider the “good ole days” of my life. For any of us, it’s usually times past. I guess that makes sense. Times of youth. Times of ease. Times when maybe dear relatives were still here with us.
Very rarely, though, in this life where we see through a mirror dimly lit do we get the chance to have an unabated picture of the entire mosaic. God has shown me lately. These days? These are the good ole days. I would have thought that it would be times with friends, in the spring of my youth, that I would want near me again when I’m old and grey. Now that I’m a mother, now that I see how fast my children are growing, that ideal has changed.
I think I’ll deeply miss this house being busy. I would miss the noise. I would miss little hand marks on my glass front door. I’ll miss toys peeking out from under the edge of the sofa. I’ll miss my daughter’s searching eyes, eyes that cause me wonder and stare. I’ll miss playing play dough, watching my son’s imagination take shape and form right in front of me. I’ll miss being needed, little bodies that just want to lay on mommy to fall asleep.
I silently pray and tell myself that this is what I will miss one day. But these days, they will be my comfort. My contented sigh when my soul aches. My children. When they are gone, when they are grown. These years have made me realize that there isn’t much that I can’t do. That there isn’t much that I don’t want to do. That if I can parent, then I can learn. And if I can learn, then I can grow. They have given me back my youth, only this time, with eyes wide open and a pliant heart that can firmly grasp it. It’s a second chance in a way. If you have children, you get two chances to grow up.
These are the good ole days. Moms, these are it. These are days worth remembering. This is why I write. This is why I take pictures. This is why I give them five more minutes or another storybook before bed. This is why I repeat myself about leaving shoes out in the kitchen everyday. This is why I hold them when they sleep. This is why I pray quietly, this is why my eyes sometimes silently fill with joyful tears in the car when no one else is around.