Having a baby is difficult in more ways than the labor. It's the life impact, the day-altering sacrifices. How the baby orders the steps that used to be set by the rhythm of your family. It's finding new rhythms and setting them in place.
The clock doesn't wait for the constant needs of feeding, changing, and rest. Everything takes longer, and there isn't room to fit it all in. What used to be, that is.
This last child grabbed a fistful of my mind on his way out, and it hasn't been the same since. I still find myself searching for the carefree person I used to know--the one not easily stressed and overwhelmed, the one not anxious about routine things like going to the grocery store, the one who enjoyed making memories--but I have yet to unearth her completely.
One of the things that came up with the kids recently is that "we don't do many fun things as a family." Intentional time and activities have certainly been lacking, and the honest feedback, though brutal, is good to hear sometimes. It's a hard reset on an equally hard year.
The day exuded fall, wonderfully moody one minute and sunny the next, its temperament changing with the wind.
The weather was gorgeous, and it beckoned us out of the house.
And just like the crispness in the wind, it was a much-needed breath of fresh air.
Time to pay attention.
To appreciate the beauty around us.
Time to pause long enough to be present, to etch these moments in our memory.
To stand in awe of Him, of His creation and blessings.
To cultivate a grateful heart and find joy again.
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This post is part of a series I’m writing for the month of October called, Walking in Humility: Learning to Abide with God in the Everyday. If you’re interested in the reading the rest of the series, you can find it here. Enjoy!