The end of summer is a predictably hard time for me. During August in Colorado, the heat of the days once warmed by the beating sun begin to lose their steam. A coolness sets in on the mornings, the evenings, even the days. Suddenly, from one crisp morning forward, I now need a sweatshirt to walk my dog when we wake up. The garden will soon die off. Lazy evenings spent playing outside after supper until all of us are satisfied with tiredness are replaced with 8:00 bed times not due to the fact that any of us enjoy them, but only because they are suited for 6:00 am alarms.
School starts. Each child moving to a higher number, advancing in grades. It pains my soul. The years race by in a blur. They move too fast. The calendar turns. Again. Again. Again. I think back. Did I savor as I should? Lord, help me savor.
Although I'm fully aware it's coming, somehow, I never feel ready for The Perpetual Next that life on this earth endlessly serves. I'm forced on a train I wish I could jump off of, taking my family with me, even for just a little while. To etch their faces, at this exact moment, in my mind. To freeze the sacred Now.
It still seems to take me by surprise. My babies. They grow up. Never is that more clear to me than in the fall. My heart overflows with bittersweetness. Motherhood, my children, the grace I've been bestowed, they saturate my being. The blessings of this, my most splendid, magnificent, special life, mingles with the sorrow of knowing. These days won't last forever. No matter how much I want them to, they just can't.
I ought to make the most of them.
Lord, help me savor.
1 comment:
I get it. all. too. well.
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