the years fly

Have you seen the movies were the vehicle is speeding up and no matter how many times the driver pressed on the brake it just won't slow down?  It's a runaway vehicle hurtling toward an unknown future that seems dangerous and impossible.  The hero always comes along to stop it in the movies somehow, but for an anxious amount of time that competent, careful driver has lost control of that and those which they care about and are responsible for preserving.  Just typing that imagery makes my heart race a smidge and my anxiety try desperately to start strangling my soul.  Why?  That's how my life kind of feels these days. 

I look around my house and see minimal, fleeting remnants of the little years.  Everyone tells you the days are long but the years fly by so hold onto each moment, and I really tried to do that, but ultimately the years still pass by.  The mirror shows you your older which is somehow shocking but not as shocking as how much older your kids now look.  These kids grow and suddenly I have to look up to the man cub that is my oldest, try to keep the communication open with my middle pre-teen who lately has told me I hover in her orbit too much and try to mandatory cuddle with my youngest who is humoring me as he's really just not that little anymore.  For so many years, they were mine.  And now?  Now, it feels like I'm watching time slip through my hands so quickly and my heart is just not ready for it.  They're not ready for it yet, but oh they think that they are.

I've felt confident lately that I was at my best in this mothering business while they were in the toddler and preschool stage.  Oh, those were precious, golden years.  They thought I was the best and their whole world.  I could totally swing some popsicle stick and sticker crafts, which they found impressive back then.  I could take them to a playground, and it was day made.  I could schedule playdates with little friends that I chose for them, and their little worlds felt connected and happy.  I could easily engage them and their hearts in easy conversation and laughter.  I loved being Mommy.  However, no one calls me that anymore.  Somewhere along the months and years when I wasn't listening, probably from sleep deprivation induced brain fog, it changed over to Mom.

I now feel like a ping pong ball bouncing between them trying to encourage, counsel discipline, listen, and coach.  We're trying to shepherd their hearts, right the mis-steps, and equip them for this overwhelming world.  The stakes feel higher, the challenges deeper and the demands non stop.  This parenting gig has gone from physically exhausting to mentally exhausting, just like that.  I have to remind myself that the same God who guided us through their little years when we had no idea what we were doing is still here with us now to guide us as we walk this new season.  He is trustworthy and able, even when I feel inadequate.  Where I am not enough, He is enough.

I am vividly aware that the years with my oldest in our home are over halfway done, and we are now on the downhill of the other side of the slope.  I find it terrifying, he finds it absolutely thrilling.  Ha!  There is so much to teach them about life before they leave our home, but their ears while still in tune to our voices, no longer listen quite as readily to the wisdom.  I see those wings starting to stretch and flap, trying to build those independent muscles so they can fly.  It's not time yet, but it's coming.  I get that this is all natural and normal and the last thing I want is to hold anyone back because of my own selfishness, but at the same time, wow, this season is hard.  I am thankful to be the launching pad for these three souls gifted to us by God, and I pray that when the time comes they don't just fly, they thrive.  I pray also for the grace for my heart in this act of letting go and trusting the One who they truly belong to, and always have, from the beginning.