But the Years Are Short

12 years ago today, I was supposed to be giving birth to my first baby.

But he stayed cozy for another week.

I remained just a little shy of crazy, waking each day in tears because I was still with child.  It was an emotional time.

Kinda like last weekend. The boys were camping, and I ran up to grab something “real quick” from the attic. The grossly unorganized attic. Thanks, kids. Instead, I spent 2 hours organizing and happened upon these two tiny gentlemen.

Skylar thought I’d stepped on a nail. These were happy tears, I explained. And some sad ones, because…

I never wanted those years to end.

Those boys were sweet and fun and they made me laugh. A lot.

I didn’t have to expect so much out of them, because they were little. I enjoyed being their Mommy SO much.

I dressed them up often like my own twin baby dolls. Until that snotty little kid at church made fun of them for wearing the same Tommy Hilfiger shirts, right in front of me. Like that, my shopping fun was over. They never wore matching shirts again.

They’re growing into amazing young men–and I’m so unbelievably proud of them. Also holding my breath a little. And praying a lot.

They’re not baby dolls anymore. Now they’re pre-teen boys in man-sized bodies.

They spend their lives repeating (or making up) jokes that aren’t funny, making “impressive” noises with their bodies, trying to get out of schoolwork, and keeping a room that induces fits. {At least that’s the effect it has on me.}

They grow more independent each day, and that’s just how it should be.

Lisa-Jo Baker said it best, in her book, Surprised by Motherhood:

“Mothers never want it to be over. Even the hard stuff. They may want to find room to breathe, to weep, to panic. But they don’t want it to end…”

Back when my boys were small, my pastor said something I didn’t fully understand~

“The days are long, but the years are short.”

I get it now. I feel it inside and out. It’s a strange combination of terrible and beautiful.

But once I find my way out of this occasional melancholy maze, my desire is great.

I want to make the most of these years.

I can’t do it alone. Last night, God reminded me~Apart from me you can do nothing.

I can read the best books and compile the right research. I may have excellent methods in place and know just what to do.

But the best things happen when I lay down all my plans and methods and research, and ask the Lord to live through me–that’s when fruit grows, in spite of me.

I’ve been reading a 31-Day devotional written by some friends I met last year at the Allume Conference. I want to share it with you, because if you’re anything like me, you want to make the most of these years, and you need regular encouragement. Grace for the Imperfect Mom: A 31-Day Invitation to Refreshed Mothering seeks to “frame our mothering through the fruits of the Spirit.” Is there any better way?

The authors hooked me with this summary–“Grace for what happens today, grace over our past, our future, and the families whose lives we influence each day. Grace for all us imperfect mamas out there.” Imperfect mamas? Now that’s something I understand!

This is an inexpensive and easy summer read, full of uplifting scriptures applied to real-life scenarios, and it would make an excellent gift for any Mom. Check it out here!

Here’s to all of us, making the most of days that are long and years that are painfully short…

~Angela