Time is one of those things that slips away from us unaware. We get so caught up in the day to day that we tend to forget that it is limited.
It seems like yesterday Jovie was begging me to read her The Very Busy Spider (animal noises included) for the millionth time. Today, she was curled up on the couch with the afternoon sun warming her shoulders, reading a book to herself.
She’s growing. They all are.
I don’t feel it when there is rice and play-doh all over the dining room floor, the volume is twelve decimals above the safe listening range, and I’m telling myself to just do the next thing because it’ll be nap time in approximately one hour and six minutes…
But at night when it’s quiet and the breeze from the open window is cooling off the chaos, I peek in on my three sleeping munchkins, and I remember. I pause from riding the rushing current, and break to gaze at the scenery.
Their legs are stretching beyond the hem of their pajama bottoms, and their tousled hair has grown longer. I feel a twinge of sadness thinking that in a few short years there will be no more chubby cheeks in this house.
What is it about my mother’s heart that wants to scoop them up and hold them tight forever?
I’ve heard it said that our parenting days are long, but the years are short. How true it is.
Being aware of time motivates me to be proactive with my kids and the time I have with them…
To work through the aches, pains, and responsibilities of adulthood, and press toward greater goals than the immediate gratification I crave for quietness and rest.
To daily lay myself down to give to their needs and to the development of their minds and hearts.
Remembering that today is a gift. All of it. Rice, play-doh, noise, chaos, sleeping children, cool breezes, and chubby cheeks.
To not wish a minute of time away but to stop and embrace the moments that are here.
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