The wind is wild today, as I sit out on the warm deck and watch the Littles pile leaves high on the trampoline. It’s been another long day, after a string of long days over the last few weeks, and everyone’s a little nutty.
They are screaming the kind of delighted, over-the-top whoops that could indicate a group melt-down at any moment, but until then, it’s just wild fun.
Even after a couple of weeks of crazy, I’m more convinced than ever that there’s bliss on this motherhood path; all the little things matter. Clipping toe nails, hunting down socks, cleaning up yogurt spills, rotating the endless assault of laundry, kissing the hurts, navigating arguments, and planning meals over and over again all end up being the tracks that lay down my life for something so much more significant than my own little self. It is part of the honoring of what is to come; a hope in the future, a joy in the journey, a vision for life generations beyond me. This is the dirt where eternities are birthed!
As the fall shadows stretch across the leaf-littered grass, silently wooing winter, I sense time creeping too. Like buds maturing on the trees, the children are growing and changing and becoming something more than I ever imagined.
As I watch the older ones branch out into their passions, see their free hearts explore an amazing world, eager to fill it with all their hope and offerings, I wonder how the work of motherhood became so disregarded?
This, here, under our feet, is where love is sown, that will one day reap a harvest in the world.
This is no small thing.