I make so many promises to myself. I will be kinder to strangers, I will cut back on Starbucks, I will read my Bible more often, I will work out regularly, I will write every day, and so on and so forth. When I am ninety, and my life is captured in my fleeting memories and stories I can still recall, will I care about the five pounds I wanted to lose or the cleanliness of my kitchen floor?
No. I think not.
These promises aren't unimportant. They just aren't the most important.
So I make new promises.
I will never look back and say that I wasn't paying attention or I wish I had enjoyed it more. The sleepless nights or the frustrating I-can't-wait-til-you-can-put-on-your-own-shoes moments. Because someday I'll have time to myself. A lot of time.
Someday I won't be their whole universe.
Someday I'll long for the little boy who wanted my attention.
I am here. Now.
I will not wonder or doubt that I
cherished appreciated loved drank deeply
every day I spent with them.
Thank you, Lord, for blessing me to overflowing with sweet words, gentle hearts, and more boys than I ever thought my life could hold.
I will live inside the tired, the dishes, the toys to put away; I will live in the sippy cups and diapers and potty breaks; I will live in the playtime, the imagination of littles, the hugs and kisses and laughter. Live inside it all and roll around and take up residence. Comfy cozy and all mine.
I will do this quickly and without thinking because as surely as it is here, with me now, sitting on my lap and holding my hand...
it will soon be memories in albums and blog posts.