It's funny how they change like that.
Her next-up brother was placid--calm as still waters--until he turned three, and now he's an imp. Unbelievably charming, with sky-blue eyes that keep him from receiving enough of what he deserves.
And her oldest brother? He was a tornado until he turned six, and now he's the quiet, responsible one.
They keep me scratching my head, wondering.
She turns six soon, and I'm still wondering how six years have gone by, and I don't want another six to rush past. So I slow down now to read books, play dolls, and bake with her, remembering to relish these days, even when I really need to get to the laundry and clean the bathrooms instead.
These are good days, full of learning and laughing and training and making memories that we will cherish.
These are hard days, full of teaching and bickering and sinning and exhaustion.
The work is constant. The rewards are nearly so, too.
I consider where my path could've gone, where my feet were heading before He lifted me out of the pit and set me on sure ground. I am awestruck at the blessings, these flesh-clothed reminders of His astounding mercy and grace. And to have been gifted with another one, after such a long space?
It isn't real yet. Nothing outside of my gently swelling belly and the day-to-day nausea that I carry. It's too far off, to think of cradling another one, with any sense of realness.
But I am filled with gratitude, that He'd give me another of His best gifts. I'm in no hurry for the weeks to rush by; this one's siblings are already growing up too fast. And I can't imagine who this one is--the possibilities are endless. And, if he or she is like the others, what we first receive will change over the years, too. His gifts are surprising like that.
Tonight, as I head downstairs to do the nightly brushing of teeth, monitoring showers, saying blessings, and re-tucking in the reluctant one, I'm thankful to be in this season. Thankful for these gifts, reminded to treat them as priceless.
Lord, thank Your for reminding me today that these children are a privilege, a high calling. They aren't obligations or tasks to be checked off. Thank You for these years of high needs and lots of hugs and endless pleadings to be with them. I know these years will pass by, and so tonight I'm thankful that these days feel long.