Monday May 21, 2018

*I just found this draft when I was looking back through my posts. I'm wondering why I never posted it and decided to post it anyway,  a year and a 3 1/2 months later. I still feel it as deeply as when I wrote it.*

(this picture has nothing to do with the post except for that it was taken around the same time I wrote it and she's little and adorable.)

Have you ever craved alone time so bad you were near tears? And not like, run an errand kid-free alone time, but real, at home-alone-with-not-another-soul-around alone time? That was me tonight. I was just at my end. I needed alone time like a parched plant needs water. So here I am: ALONE. And it feels so good. So, so good. I want to do nothing and everything. I want to stare blankly across the yard and I want to speed clean my house. I want to write everything and yet write nothing. Read a book? Do some yoga? The possibilities are endless but here I am. Writing on my deck in the evening sunshine. Rocking in the chair my little family got me for mothers day last year listening to music that makes my soul shake. I have a glass of wine next to me, each sip savored. I cooked myself dinner, a new recipe and I enjoyed it.  If you know me, you know I hate cooking. Dinner time is my nemesis. But tonight, in my empty house I rather enjoyed it. Each step adding up to create an amazing meal I'll definitely be making again. I ate outside, the smell of freshly mowed lawn wafting through the air. I don't want time to pass and it feels like its going to quickly.

It feels ridiculous admitting, but I feel like I could cry. I'm not sure why? The sweet quiet of no one around? This small gift I've been given this evening? The beauty of the evening? An overwhelming feeling of thanks is flooding me deep. I so often feel lost...I catch myself stunned that I am almost 32, married, and a mother to three children. Often times I don't feel grown up. I still think of myself as the twenty-something trying to figure life out. All it takes is the cry of a child to bounce me back to reality. I thought turning thirty I would feel some pivotal shift. Like I would all of a sudden feel like a legit adult. I'd feel settled and content. Sorry thirties, but so far, you've left me wanting. Ok, I know I am just a mere two years into them, but let's just say there was no pivotal shift. I still feel as unsure as I did in my twenties, just about different things. When I grabbed my laptop this was not where my mind was AT ALL.

Time to regroup. Today my oldest asked me to play soccer with him.  We played keep away with the ball. We chased each other, tripped over each other and laughed a lot. It's the first activity I've done with him that I've actually enjoyed; that I felt genuine joy doing. That probably makes me sound horrible, but the truth is, he loves creating, crafts, art, building and that is just not my strong suit. But the running around, chasing each other...I loved it. I loved being able to keep up with him. And it made me appreciate my body for the first time in a while. I'm all to guilty of shaming my post three babies bod, never allowing it to measure up. I've been pretty committed to working out, not just to get in shape but because I truly enjoy pushing myself during workouts. Stressful day? I'll work out when everyone is in bed, not letting my body slack off and it feels so good. Being able to keep up with my boy, it made every work out worth it. Who knows, maybe running could become our thing. Something we continue to do as he grows.

This honestly sounded so much better in my head. That happens to everybody though, right? I read an article today about a father saying yes to holding his daughter. She's eight and getting too big for her mother to hold, her grandparents too. He was about to put her down when she clung tighter to his neck. She told him "it feels good to be held like this". And he froze, realizing he is the last one who can still hold her. (insert tears streaming down my face.) He continued holding her even though his arms were getting tired realizing at eight, she's hitting a lot of her lasts. Flashes of her as a baby stream through his  mind and he vows to say yes every time she asks to be held until she stops asking. My heart was in literal pieces reading this article. I, of course, had to read it to my husband, and though he may deny it now, I think he choked up too. I thought of Brody and how I can barely carry him up the stairs anymore when he's sleeping. His feet hit my knees as I huff and puff up each step. His 5 year old body heavy with sleep is becoming too much for me. It makes me want to pick him up and hold him. It makes me want to grab his hand more often and hold it. It makes me want to snuggle up to him on the couch more often.

Maybe I'm just trying to wrap my head around time. Is that even possible? I don't want to rush it. I don't want to long for the end of the day when it's been challenging. I don't want to think ahead to when two of my kids are in school. I want to be present in each day and no where else. I look at my planner, all the days already filled up this summer and I feel anxious at how quickly it will all happen. Right after I typed this I remembered this quote I read:

"It takes courage to listen with our whole heart to the tick of God's timing rather than march to the loud beat of our fears." - Ann Voskamp

If I do what she says, if I listen with my whole heart than I am right where God wants me to be. Can I let go of all of the expectations I have for myself and for our summer and trust God?