Today, my littlest man turns 5.
How in the world?! It seems like only yesterday we were celebrating his fourth birthday. It’s bewildering to think back on this last year and see where we are today. I keep asking myself: how did we get here? who would have thought? how do we preserve it?
I don’t know the answer. I walked this journey and I’m still in awe of it and words can’t describe it. I’m a perfectionist and for years I’ve tried to connect a meaning to everything and anything under the sun. I struggle to pause and reflect in the journey, my eyes and energy always focused on what’s next. Keep moving. You can rest when you’re dead. Time is running out. Life is short. Pack it all in, just in case. Move. Move. Hustle.
I’m sitting in an old leather love seat looking out the window of an even older farmhouse and I feel winter all around me. Laptop in my lap, birthday boy at my feet, and a cup of Mexican coffee warming my hip. I can feel it. It’s a new season for us, and I don’t mean winter. I mean, it’s winter here in Charlotte, Vermont, but the season I am referring to is the seasons of our lives. My body wants to do something. Be active. But I can’t pry myself from this view. From this season of stillness.
Can I be completely honest? I feel pangs of guilt. I feel guilty because I’m enjoying and savoring these moments. I think of all the things I could be doing. I could be out shopping for a tree. I could be unpacking boxes. I could be balancing my accounts. If I’m distracted enough, I can convince myself that this is being lazy.
There is so much I could be doing. But this is just where I feel He wants me to be. I don’t understand it, and I’m trying to be ok with that because I feel His hands all over this season. And isn’t it a beautiful thing to see? To feel? I’d miss this if I was busy trying to understand it. If I had been hustling.
Be still long enough to listen to that quiet whisper. He knows what you need more than you do. Have faith. Trust.