There are days and nights where I wonder what my life would be like if my kids were older. Just a little bigger maybe. I think of all the things I could be doing. The ways I could be serving. The activities and ministries that could be taking up my time. The relationships I could be building. “If we could just get to that next phase”, I say to myself.
But then a soft voice whispers and reminds me just how much I know I’ll miss this. It’s a very precious thing to feel a baby hand reach for you. To feel another human calm upon settling into your chest. To see a smile only you can earn.
THIS is my ministry. These are my disciples. This is the ever-exhausting, not-always-satisfying, all-too-important work of being a mama.
At the same time that I feel like I’m suffocating and buried under a monotonous constant of serving others – I’m learning to see the blessing and joy and beauty in that. I’m understanding that this job of raising littles isn’t just about endless snack and laundry and messes and diapers and sleep deprivation. It’s about pouring 110% into the next generation, to make sure a legacy of love lives on.