Happy Mom

The sun finally came out, after several cold and rainy days.  We got to enjoy the warmth and sunshine and be together on a nice, relaxing Saturday.  I felt so overwhelmed with gratitude, watching my family today.  I keep thinking of the song my Dad shared with me and Peter: "You're Gonna Miss This," by Trace Adkins.  The last time my parents visited, my Dad told me about that song and I listened to the lyrics.  He talks about these days when we have little children and life can seem crazy, when we sometimes hold out for the next accomplishment or milestone to think we'll be happy. And then the chorus repeats,

"You're gonna miss this.  You're gonna want this back.  You're gonna wish these days hadn't gone by so fast.  These are the good times, so take a good look around.  You may not know it now, but you're gonna miss this."

As my Mom and Dad drove away to head back to Kansas, I couldn't hold back the tears.  I heard those lyrics in my mind and thought of them having to go home, far away from my babies.  I know my girls miss their grandparents in Kansas (and the missing is as bittersweet in that beautiful white, cozy home in Kansas).  After that, I kept having random elderly people stop me in the store and at church to comment on how cute my girls are, and then they would say, "You're living in the best of your life right now.  Cherish it."  I decided God needed me to have lots of reminders, since I'm pretty hard-headed.

Peter brought home a beautiful story that captures this sentiment in a thought-provoking way (more reminders...he didn't even know about my chance encounters and the thoughts I was mulling over).  It is called "The Magic Thread."  A boy named Peter is given a magic ball of thread.  When he pulls the string, time moves forward, so that he can skip unpleasant aspects of his life.  But he cannot push the string back in and get the time back.  It is here for those of you who have a minute.  It really is beautiful.  And then I read an article by a former professor whom I really admire, titled "As For Years."  I cannot summarize it well, but I love the Shakespeare quote he ends with, that we must learn "to love well, which thou must leave ere long." I will link the article, too, because it was so profound to me.

As I paced the hall with Elise Friday, as she was crying, right after cleaning up a potty-training accident from Anne, these thoughts kind of swirled around in my mind.  Shortly after that, my good mother-in-law came and picked up Anne and Carissa so I could get a nap.  As she drove away, I stood on the porch and waved at the girls.  Carissa signed "I love you" and smiled.  Maybe it's hormones, but I had tears in my eyes and I thought of another song, "Stealing Cinderella."  I could hear the Dad singing, "I'll dance with Cinderella, while she is here in my arms.  Cause I know something the prince never knew.  All too soon, the clock will strike midnight and she'll be gone."

These little girls, whose needs are so physically demanding, can bring out of me feelings of being overwhelmed and exhausted like nothing else I have ever experienced.  All of these reminders have been tender mercies, to help me see with spiritual eyes.  From a freshly renewed perspective, I realize that these days are but a blink of an eye.  I remember that these little girls are really Little Women in the making.  It is a daunting thought!  And a beautiful promise.  In our kitchen, we have a quote I love: the best is yet to be.  And today is sweet.