Present

I was chatting with my sister the other day and she mentioned that she was struggling over the idea of being “done” having kids. I tried to console her, while also realizing that I was really just consoling myself. It’s embarrassing to admit, but even with four beautiful babies in my arms and a few in heaven, I can’t wrap my mind around this new life stage. Whenever I see friends getting pregnant, snuggle their newborn (why do baby’s heads smell of pure love?) or pack away little onesies into the donate bucket, it feels like some part of me dies a bit inside. I thought I would celebrate this season of life, but yet I’ve found myself tempted more often than not to mourn about it all.

As is so often in these cases like mine, I do wonder if our family ever will feel “complete”, since I don’t have the privilege of holding them all here on this earth anymore. I also wonder if I’m just obsessed with sweet babies and would always struggle with the idea of not having them anymore. I wonder if it really is a mistake to stop at all…

But I think the answer runs deeper than that.

There seems to be a cycle at play in the human experience. We crave comfort, sameness, routine, stability. But then we get bored – “Adventure!” we cry, and we heave off into some new scheme that brings a glint to our eye and spice to our lives. However, at some point, our fun begins to feel a wee “white knuckled” and the overwhelm sets in. The frantic pace of our adventures grates on weary nerves, so that we crave comfort, routine and stability again. We cut out commitments, clear the calendar, calm and settle into a nice even pace once again…. Until we get bored.

Rinse and Repeat.

I think the rapidity of how quickly you complete this cycle is dependent on personality and such, but it seems to be there all the same.

But unfortunately, this was perpetual waffling often leaves us feeling dissatisfied, looking for the next grand adventure – or wishing that adventure away. We are tempted to stray our eyes from present blessings to either future problems or gilded pasts. And while I think I tend to see this truth in the microcosm of my days, weeks and months, I neglect to recognize it in my years, or even larger seasons of life.

Lots of words, make it simple, Kelsey.

Basically, in this season of mothering young children, I crave quiet and order. “Just a minute for myself”, I mutter, as I hide in a closet or lean against the car door. And I do often fail to see how quickly coming are the quiet, lonely days when I may crave the chaos I’m currently (and desperately) trying to escape.

But expanding here, the most acute pain I tend to experience is when that season, no matter how onerous, seems to be ending. Which brings me back to my original query, why does being “done” having kids feel so hard? I think maybe being “done” with any stage of life often feels like a sort of mourning.

But, for the Christian, it really shouldn’t. Here’s why:

Imagine you’re taking your child to Disney world. You’ve planned the week long trip packed full of different adventures each day, all unique in their pleasures and hardships, but all planned out perfectly for your child’s desires, abilities, and goals. You love your child, and you want this trip to be incredible. So, after hours and hours of planning and research, you have the whole itinerary written out in detail in the Fanny pack on your hip. You can’t wait to experience it all with them.

But this child, whom you adore, has a problem with transitions, as so many children do. Which you know, but nonetheless, it is shocking as you watch the full blown mental breakdown as the child is asked to leave the plane after touchdown in Orlando. “LEAVE ME I JUST LOVE PLANES SO MUCH” she wails. “I’VE ONLY EVER WANTED TO GO ON A PLANE RIDE, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO MEEEEEE”… People are staring, you’re getting a bit irritated, but you try to cajole her with the promise of your incredible itinerary, along with the beloved Starbuck’s cakepop awaiting her in the terminal.

She finally relents, though still sniffling and asking about the plane the entire walk to Starbucks, constantly looking over her shoulder and punctuating her steps with dramatic sighs. You arrive after much ado, give her the beloved sugar-on-a-stick, and she settles, sulking, into her chair. She takes a bite… and begrudgingly informs you that, while she still misses the plane… this is pretty good too. You feel justified. “See, didn’t I tell you this was a good plan? Isn’t this better than sitting in the plane all day?” She looks dubious, but soon her chubby legs are swinging in the chair and she’s asking how many more cake pops you’re going to order this week.

But then, it’s time to go get in the car and go to the hotel. She doesn’t want to leave the coffee shop, she’s comfortable there and you can just have cake pops for every meal, right?? Cue Plane Meltdown, 2.0

This pattern continues throughout your entire trip. Your child cries and wails every time the scenery changes, endlessly reminisces about how the previous activity was better and rarely acknowledges (if ever) that your plan was pretty good after all. The vacation is short already, but now it feels like you’re missing it all as you’re spending the majority of the time trying to convince your child that what’s ahead is at least as good as, if not better, than what came before.

What a miserable way to spend a vacation…

And what a miserable way to spend a life.

For you see, our God has every one of our days written in His book. He has planned our lives meticulously for His own glory and our good. We don’t have eternity here on earth, it’s a short trip and He means us to make the most of it. It’s a beautiful, grand adventure He has planned for His child, and He’s looking forward to enjoying it together.

Yet here we are, whining and crying through the transitions. We cry when we aren’t children anymore and have to shoulder teenage responsibilities. Then we cry harder when we become adults and learn what the word “responsibility” actually means. We cry when that young, attractive adult body is sacrificed away for the new baby, then we sob when we don’t get to have new babies anymore. We cry when our kids leave the house, and then we bemoan that there aren’t enough grandkids. Gray-headed, we cry as we that we don’t have enough time to ourselves, then our head is white as we cry that we’re lonely these days. And on and on it goes…

Until, just like that, the trip is over. It’s time to go home. And we’ve spent so much time mourning the transitions, we missed the beautiful life that God has put before us, right now, as a gift abundantly evident of His incredible and unending love for you and I.

The present is a present, and while that is the cheesiest thing I will probably say in the next year, it bears repeating. This moment – that difficult job, the body changes, the sticky face breathing on your eyeball (thanks, Isaiah), the newborn haze, and yes, even the menopausal rages and aching joints – it was all planned out by a loving Heavenly Father, and given to us as a gift. He’s right beside us the entire time, and entreats us to trust Him and His Plans.

And to try to have a little fun & joy while we’re at it.

I’m not perfect at this (see above), I wouldn’t even give myself a passing grade to be honest. But I hope it encourages you today to be in the moment and trust God’s goodness in your life. Be present for this beautiful adventure, so that when it’s over, you can know that you fully enjoyed it all.

With Love,

Kelsey

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future”

Jeremiah 29:11