A few weeks ago, a friend of mine was sharing with me about how she keeps waiting for that time when she'll be able to breathe and catch up. Refuel.
I thought for a moment about what she said. My kids are several years older than hers, but this past year I've really been waiting for that time that she was talking about. It has never come. It feels like there's been one thing after another. I get very tired at times.
I have come to the conclusion that there might not be that lull in life that I long for. But, instead, there are moments. And it is the moments that sustain us and refuel us.
The moment in the car on the long vacation ride when Sami asks how much longer and Autumn tells her to call her. Then Sami pretends to call Autumn on an imaginary phone and Autumn answers, "Hello. This is the Estimation Station. How can we help you?" Sami then asks, "How much longer till we get there?" Autumn responds, "Let me ask our Estimator, Eli." Eli then gives his answer, "Ten hours." (It was only about 2 or 3 more at that point.) My husband then calls in and asks, "How long will I live?" The estimation station attendant: "Let me consult the estimator." The estimator: "One hundred and forty years."
Laughter filled the car.
I'm starting to thing there aren't weeks or even days that will come that I will get to step back and refuel. There are simply moments.
Last night, my middle daughter snuggled into my arms and I hugged her in the evening.
The librarian complimented my oldest daughter when she went to volunteer. She makes me smile. She's thoughtful and thought filled.
And my son, well, he gives me a hug every morning.
This is my time to love my kids.
I thought for a moment about what she said. My kids are several years older than hers, but this past year I've really been waiting for that time that she was talking about. It has never come. It feels like there's been one thing after another. I get very tired at times.
I have come to the conclusion that there might not be that lull in life that I long for. But, instead, there are moments. And it is the moments that sustain us and refuel us.
The moment in the car on the long vacation ride when Sami asks how much longer and Autumn tells her to call her. Then Sami pretends to call Autumn on an imaginary phone and Autumn answers, "Hello. This is the Estimation Station. How can we help you?" Sami then asks, "How much longer till we get there?" Autumn responds, "Let me ask our Estimator, Eli." Eli then gives his answer, "Ten hours." (It was only about 2 or 3 more at that point.) My husband then calls in and asks, "How long will I live?" The estimation station attendant: "Let me consult the estimator." The estimator: "One hundred and forty years."
Laughter filled the car.
I'm starting to thing there aren't weeks or even days that will come that I will get to step back and refuel. There are simply moments.
Last night, my middle daughter snuggled into my arms and I hugged her in the evening.
The librarian complimented my oldest daughter when she went to volunteer. She makes me smile. She's thoughtful and thought filled.
And my son, well, he gives me a hug every morning.
This is my time to love my kids.
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