awaiting & grieving
Those days. The ones where hands were tiny, hopes were huge. The ones where chasing and laughter were plenty, train tracks were created, and laps were full. Days when we splashed in tubs, found little bugs, and smelled stinky toes. Where naps, needs, and night lights kept us on our knees. Where. Are. Those. Days.?
People love to give young parents advice on the passing of time and the fleeting moments we have. Now I am that Mom. Speaking in parenting classes about the reality of moments you cant have back. Saying things like, "Before you can blink those tiny hands have grown strong and bigger than your own."
The used-to-be funny stories of the day...the ones where you walk in a bedroom full of boys to find underwear spinning on the blades of the ceiling fan and cries of laughter echoed as the background beats. Those are now old memories of days come and gone.
I find my heart in a season of grieving the past yet awaiting the future of our family. Those days. The ones of tough training, Jesus showing, lesson learning, and hours of playing are now in the driveway shooting hoops and having conversations about future dreams. Each son showing signs of growth. I know the launch is coming soon. I actually lose breath just thinking about the time, conversations, laughter, dreaming, correcting, connecting, encouraging, and hoping that needs to take place before that once basketball shooting driveway becomes the launch pad for our kids.