I watched them tell their stories, tears welling up in their eyes. Stories of how deeply they miss their seemingly suddenly grown-up kids who are off making a life of their own....stories about the path they find themselves on, searching for meaningfulness in their days as they grow accustomed to the quietness that fills their homes....as wives living alone again with the husband of their youth, yet they are no longer young....as mothers taking on a new and different role, not as caretakers but as consultants....as women who have poured themselves into the raising of their children with absolutely no regret, looking now for a new vision, purpose, and passion for their own lives.
Their stories have penetrated my heart. I am grateful they were brave and open enough to share their experiences, their sadness at a chapter of their lives coming to a close, and their desire to discover what is next for them, their hope for the future.
I can see it happening here too. Although our kids are young, the passage of time is very apparent. I remember Tyden ambling around our playroom when he was learning to walk like it was yesterday. Now he is 4. This is the year he will transition from a toddler into a kid, leaving all traces of babyhood behind. In the kitchen, I see Onyx's face peer over the countertop at me making his request and I recall looking down at him when even the top of his blond head couldn't reach. I listen to Jayla read me a bedtime story and I see how tall she is becoming. When did she get so long? Stryder, my handful. One day, that boy who will have grown to become much taller than me, will laugh at the stories I tell him of when he was still small. I can see it.
My days with them are numbered. They just are. That's the nature of the game.
When I am overwhelmed, fatigued, longing for a moment to myself, I must remember my time is coming.
Today, my nest was gloriously, wonderfully, blessedly full. I am glad.
1 comment:
I just put on my makeup and now it's gone. ;-)
Post a Comment