“He changes times and seasons…He gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to the discerning.” Daniel 2:21
Sneaking out of bed at 5:35 am, I tiptoe out of my room, so as not to wake the sleeping child lying next to me. I think it’s Elliana, though it’s very dark, so I don’t know for sure. She’s our regular nightly visitor, who also happens to be our lightest sleeper. The slightest creek in the floor, and it’s “good morning world“. Can’t risk that. Not today.
Long days filled with carpool lines, laundry baskets and meal preparation mesh with kissing boo-boo’s, quizzing math facts and refereeing sibling battles. Not much time for writing…again. Or ever, it seems. My only opportunities come late at night or early in the morning. And most of the time, I’m too exhausted for either.
I wake up my computer and settle in with a hot cup of coffee and a foggy brain so I can get Monday’s blog post up on Tuesday. It’ll be a short one. Better than nothing.
Quick, Sandy. Write! Create something witty , yet profound, before the day begins. No pressure.
Glancing at the clock I see I only have twenty minutes left before I must begin packing lunches and waking the children. How can this be? Didn’t I just sit down?
And so it goes with my life. Today. Week in and week out. At least for this season.
The constant fight for writing time—for me time—frustrates and fatigues this momma. Sometimes I wonder what God is up to: giving me this desire, this drive, this dream to write and create and impact my world. Yet forgetting—it seems—to also give me the opportunity to do so.
I think of the seasons. I think of the last few weeks, where literally before my eyes, the green leaves morphed to brilliant reds and yellows and then fell to the ground. How the temperatures swung from 80’s to 40’s. How sunset changed from 9-ish to 6-ish.
I think how the upcoming winter means no open windows. No swimming pools. No late evenings catching fire flies. No early mornings drinking coffee on the deck. No trips to the zoo. No picnics in the park. No flip-flops. No tank tops.
And if I choose to dwell on those things, I can become downright discouraged. If I choose to rehearse in my mind all the activities I cannot do in this season, I will miss the beauty unique to winter.
I will miss hot chocolate by the fireplace. And the pale glow of Christmas lights. And pumpkin-pie scented candles. And snuggling in bed under warm blankets. And marveling at the way the snow outlines every single branch on the trees. And cute scarves. And my favorite boots.
Sure, I could choose to forge ahead with my summer plans in the dead of winter. I could insist upon wearing my flip flops in the snow. But that would be foolish. That would be dangerous. That doesn’t mean I can’t love flip flops (and Lord knows, I do). And it doesn’t mean I can’t look forward to wearing flip flops when the season changes. But for now…
So, Lord, as my brief early morning writing time comes to a rapid close, please help me see the beauty of this season of life. Help me recognize the unique things that only come while small children are under my care. Help me embrace sticky kisses and little finger prints and footy-pajamas. Help me appreciate spontaneous hugs and silly songs and crayon creations.
Help me understand that there will be no grand announcement stating, “Mommy, this is the last night I will sleep in your bed or ask you to push me on the swing or need you to quiz me on my spelling words.” But as sure as the seasons change, there will be a last time.
Please, Jesus, give me wisdom to seize the opportunities unique to today. Help me remember that for a short time, I have occasion to eternally impact three lives. Today, a timely conversation about life with my ten-year-old is so much more fruitful than a mediocre blog post. Today, nuggets of truth deposited into the heart of my son are better than articles submitted for publication.