Kids. The puppy. To-do lists. My faith. The seasons. The piles of random stuff around the house. My work as a doula, childbirth educator, and midwife assistant.
So much growth, all around me. Sometimes, maturity comes with it. Not always, though.
I received an unexpected gift of a little cash recently, and decided to use it to take the kids to dinner at Chik-fil-A, so they could play at the play place, and we could have some fun time together. This week was a bit rough, as I spent 26 hours at a birth.
Wednesday is completely missing from my mental calendar.
Anyway, when we got there, I had Durin stand up against the “You must be shorter than THIS…” arrow on the play place door.
He’s right at the mark.
Next time we can go, he’ll likely be too tall, and have to sit with me at the table. It will be time to let him bring a book.
Also, he ate an adult meal. Plus half my fries.
Oh. My. Word.
Dad told me, the day Durin was born, “Don’t blink.”
He was so right.
Growth happens, whether we want it to or not. It’s real. It’s vibrant. It’s beautiful. It’s a little frightening, but it happens. Everyday.
I want nothing more than to touch the hearts of my children as they grow. To be their safe place to land. Eventually, to be able to be counted among their best friends. I know that’s a long time coming, and I also know that I fail miserably at least once a day (if I’m being generous).
I can only cling to hope that I am growing as much as they are. I sometimes wish I could grow as fast…
Grace & Peace,