I am expecting the birth of my little girl sometime in the next few days, and am officially beginning maternity leave. That means that this will be my last blog post for the next few months. I will return to seeing clients and blogging regularly in mid-August.
I have no idea what the next few days, weeks, and months will look like. I don’t know precisely when this little girl will choose to make her debut. I have no idea what it will be like to be the mother of two young children or how our family will make the transition from a family of three to a family of four. In my hands I currently hold a great deal of excitement and quite a bit of fear as well. But there are a few things that I do know about the next days, weeks, and months. I know that there will be some really hard moments. I know there will be some tears of exhaustion and frustration. I know that there will be some indescribably beautiful moments. I know there will be some tears of joy and love and gratitude. And, I know that these next weeks are going to absolutely fly by. Before I know it, I will be sitting here again, writing a new blog from a new season of life.
I have no idea what the next weeks and months hold for you, but I can guess that many of the things that are true for the season that lies ahead of me are true for the season that lies ahead of you. Most likely the next days, weeks, and months will hold hard moments and beautiful moments, feelings of sadness and fear and feelings of joy and gratitude. And most likely, the next weeks are going to absolutely fly by.
Some good friends of our have observed that this is almost always true of summer. The days start getting longer, the temperatures start getting warmer, and suddenly time speeds up. It’s Memorial Day, and then before you know it, it’s the Fourth of July. Then suddenly the kids are preparing to go back to school, the nights have a chill to them, and fall is on its way. While I would like to hold my friends personally responsible for this phenomenon, since they first verbalized its existence to me, I have actually noticed that this is largely true for life. It goes by so fast. At times there are days that literally seem to last forever, and even weeks that drag by. But the seasons and the years fly past.
And I don’t want to miss it. I do not want to look back and ask myself where the time went. I want to know exactly how I spent my days and weeks and months. I want to know the story that I lived out. I want to remember the characters and the plot twists and the details. I want to remember the events the shaped my life, to hold tight and savor the beautiful moments, to appreciate the growth-producing effects of the hard and painful ones.
I don’t think that happens without effort. Unless we are intentional, we will miss this life that we are living. I am certainly still in the process of learning how to do this, and probably will be engaged in this process my whole life. The first thing I have learned is the importance of intentionally. We have to keep our eyes open and put effort into remembering. We cannot allow ourselves the excuses of poor memories or busy days.
I have found that keeping art around somehow helps me intentionally take note of life. Reading, listening to music, and enjoying the artistic creations of others in some way opens my eyes to beauty and helps me hold to the moments. Plus, that art can become a marker for those moments. There is a pop song that my son is completely infatuated with. Whenever he hears it he stops what he is doing, smiles, and dances like a crazy man. I love it. And whether or not I agree that the song is art, for the rest of my life, that song will conjure up beautiful images of a joyful toddler bouncing, spinning, and dancing around the room with total abandon.
I have noticed that whenever something significant happened in the Old Testament, the people would either give a new name to the place where it occurred or they would build an altar there. When Jacob wrestled with God in Genesis 32, he named the place Peniel, which means “face of God,” because in that spot he saw God face to face (Gen. 32:30). We may not rename rooms in our house or literally build stone altars, but we can create special markers. We can write things down in family histories, baby books, or personal journals. We can take pictures. We can take videos. We can buy gifts or mementos. A wedding ring is not just a ring. It is a marker of a wedding, a marriage, and all of the moments tied up into the relationship between husband and wife. That small circle can point to all of those moments, big and small, that make a marriage. We can create markers of special moments to help us remember and hold tight.
And finally, and perhaps most importantly, we can live our lives with witnesses. When we share the details of our lives with other people, we invite them to join us in marking our lives. Every time we tell a story we strengthen the power of its memory. This is true for big moments and small ones. When my son was just a few months old, I had the news on while we were getting ready for the day. The Vice President was giving a speech, and I told him “That’s the Vice President. His name is Joe Biden.” I have no idea why, but he cracked up. In fact, for several days, every time I said, “Joe Biden,” my very tiny son would laugh and laugh. He was just beginning to laugh and that was one of the most precious sounds I have ever heard. I don’t ever want to forget the silly, random things that first made him laugh. So I told my friends and family. I am writing it here. And each time I share that moment, there are more witnesses to this small but meaningful moment in my life and my son’s life.
I can only imagine what this next season holds for you. I hope that it holds much laughter, joy, and beauty. And, I hope that you are able to briefly pause time and grab hold of some small moments to keep and treasure. I hope that when you look back at this season of life, you are able to remember the days, remember the story you lived, and remember what mattered.
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