Monday, June 06, 2016


I've been in the midst of doing preschool tours for the fall, and on Thursday night, it all sort of crashed down around me.  My life in the fall will be forever different from what I have known for the past 7-8 years.  Most likely, I will have all children in full time school starting in August.


Now - in many ways this sounds quite nice.  It can be exhausting to be with my children all of the time, truly.  They create chaos at most every footfall and require continual engagement.  I look forward to being able to outsource their education and therapy needs and pick them up in the afternoons, and for the current time, this looks like what God has for our family.

But to say that this doesn't lead me toward a bit of an identity and life crisis would be a flat out lie.  I am definitely what could be called a "pre-griever."  I've always reacted to change before it happens and grieved all that will be lost even before it is.  This has gigantic pros and cons, because usually by the time the change occurs, I am prepared for it.  But, I can often paint a dramatic picture beforehand, especially because I am replacing a known/loved thing with an unknown/not-sure-if-I-will-love-it thing.

As John and I spoke of other possible changes coming, tears rolled down my cheeks.  I will never get this exact time back.  Forever gone are the days of having my little children home with me, and the truth is, my days have passed more quickly than most people who have four children.  My four children are very close together and include twins at the end, so everything is sped up and compressed a bit.

I freaked out over many things.  How will I ever see my friends, since I used to meet up with them with our kids?  What will I do?  (I'm not really that worried about this, because I NEVER get bored, and there are a million and one ways to plug into the places that my children will be, but I don't know exactly what that will look like yet.)  I won't be the primary influencer on my children during their school days, and that thought fills me with sadness.  As I've said before, there are so many hard things about this passing stage, but the sweetness is what rises to the surface of my memories.

I will miss the slower mornings and the morning playdates.  I will miss eating lunch with them and knowing how their day is going, because we are having the same one.  I will miss being the one to read to them before nap and tuck them in for that nap that they may or may not take.  I will miss the "hold you"s and the extra hugs and kisses and singing in the car while running errands together.

While crying on Thursday night, it hit me that this is what motherhood is: constant change and adaptation and letting go.  It never just settles and lets you get comfortable.  The children are growing and learning and developing into little people, just as they should and as I want them to.  But as the reality of it sinks in, I'm reminded that I cannot put all of my energy and hopes into this fleeting thing.  I am a mother, but I am many other things as well - good things that God has called me to.

During worship at church on Sunday, I immediately started the crying again, but we sang a song about the faithfulness of God and the way he never changes that allowed me to reframe it all in my mind.  He is eternal, immovable, unshakeable. He is my rock and foundation, and though everything known may be torn away come fall (again - I tend towards the dramatic), God will be there - just the same as he was yesterday and today and will be tomorrow.