Texas was home for my first eighteen years until 1997 when I moved up north to first Montana then Washington. I now have four children and due to the cost of plane tickets, I am only able to go visit every two to three years. In fact, until this past December, I hadn’t been home for Christmas since before I left in 1996.
I don’t want to complain tonight, but can I be real? I’m tired. I will be 41 in nine days. I have been at this motherhood thing for twenty-two years, and I still have eleven to go until my youngest is 18. That’s thirty-three years, y’all. Thirty-three years of cleaning up after little people, breaking up arguments, fixing broken toys, birthday parties, tantrums (oh yes, I am still dealing with that…)
Today I took my kids to a McDonald’s Playplace, and immediately the scene had me feeling all sorts of ways. First, the music that was playing was from the 90s, making me reminisce on my senior year of high school and wondering how in the WORLD am I going to be 41 in a couple of weeks?
It’s a bright, sunny day here in the Pacific Northwest, and I have an hour before I have to pick up my kids from school. I promised myself that I would clean my perpetually messy house during this hour of solitude. But God had other plans.
Every year, FB reminds me of the exact moment when one of my closest friendships died. I could delete the memory and never see it again, but I choose to remember where I came from and what God brought me out of.
Sometimes we get discouraged while praying for the lost. We faithfully pray for that lost child or spouse and we aren’t seeing any change. Occasionally, we may even feel like giving up or “giving it to God” and stop praying about it. I think the real definition of giving it to God is- stop worrying about it but keep on praying about it!