On top of that, they are only small children for an even shorter period of time. So no, it won’t always be like this, and I am already grieved over that fact. Yet, it is this truth that drives and motivates my pursuit and cultivation of meaning within our home. It is this truth that invites me daily to slow down, speak slower, speak softer, or don’t speak at all and just listen. It is this truth that has been brutally changing me for years now. Changing me in ways that I have needed for so long.
Sometimes I am so hesitant to give myself over to the art of writing because I know what I will find there, I will find truth and with truth comes awareness. And for me, I can’t walk away or avoid what has been made clear and true.
There are moments when my seven-year-old daughter finds me staring off into the dancing shadows on the wall, I see her face and ask myself the most important question, “It won’t always be like this, so how do you want these days to be remembered?” These are days and moments that are not only being remembered but are fully forming who my children will be one day, to a certain extent. These everyday, seemingly meaningless moments create the basis for their relationships for the rest of their lives. Every moment matters. When I am honest with myself, I can admit that truth is terrifying and beautiful, all at the same time. These are the parts of motherhood no one quite prepares you for or talks about. The parts about grief, and terror, and beauty. The parts that are brutal yet change us.
When you wake in the morning, and you see the sun cast light on your wall or shadows across your room, let it be an invitation:
“How do you want this day to be remembered?”
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