With Monday's celebration of thirteen years of dearly-loved Noah, I find myself thinking back to the "little years." The years when they all basically enjoyed the same things. I could be a super-hero simply by carving out a few extra minutes to drop by the playground on the way home from running errands with them. They would actually all still enjoy that now, too, but it's…different.
It's different in the same way they will all lay on the floor building a matchbox car track with their four-year-old brother…and though they're all having fun, they are having different sorts of fun.
The same way I can still feed them good foods and fill them, but it takes A LOT more food, which means the foods need to be simple and must be bought in BULK.
Different, in that we can all read the Jesus Bible Storybook at breakfast together and enjoy it, but I still need to be sure my older ones are being fed spiritually in deeper ways.
Different. Deeper. Fuller. Yes.
but sometimes I miss the littler. simpler.
There's no stopping it. So what's this mama to do when it makes me happy and sad and desperate and proud all at once? Lift my chin to the sky and whisper "thanks" continually. Pray unceasingly for these little men to grow in grace and wisdom and love of truth. Enjoy each and every moment. Let some not-so-important stuff slide. Let lots of stuff go, in order to look deeply into bright blue eyes as they tell me
So I guess, there still is littler. simpler. stuff going on here. It's just that those things take a different form than five small bodies eagerly gathered around a Thomas the Train track. This smaller stuff is giving way to the deeper, fuller, big stuff. The stuff that will continue to come in bulk amounts (along with food orders) as we blessedly walk through the coming count-down of summers left before we must begin to let them fly.