A close friend shared the wrestling of loving life and longing for eternity with Jesus. A few hours later I realized that a few years ago I would’ve shared her posture. Today I find myself in a different place. Not better or worse… different. I would sincerely, tearfully, joyfully welcome Jesus Christ if He returned today. But I pray big for the grace and gift of life continuing long enough to witness my girls become His too.
Maybe all moms of littles deal with this and you all are going to be, Um, yeah, Chelsea, you’re not the only one. But I’m realizing that it’s not the motherhood responsibilities that tax me the most, it’s the seemingly constant noise. Is noise too strong of a word? Sound? Buzzing? Talking? Clamor? Bedlam? (Har har.) Jules isn’t forming words but I think her whine-cry is worse than if I had two humans spilling paragraphs to me all day. They are the delight of our lives, but heavensssssss. John asked me today when I was sharing this with him if I thought the wearying was connected to my personality. I didn’t answer him then and I still am not sure. Maybe? Stay tuned.
Stretching is a word I often use to describe challenging days or seasons. I used to imagine a rubber band when I said it, now I picture a balloon. He stretches me as a container to fill me with more… more of Himself, more of His vision, His fruit, His love. And that’s pretty cool.