What A Day That Will Be

As my 2-year old Betsie would say, “Oh derr…”

Things are about to get all sentimental up in here.

The baby has left my tummy, and though it might make me sound a bit dramatic, I am already reconnecting to the old Mrs. Gore…

the one who really likes people and loves life and enjoys playing with my children and also the one who cries at beautiful things.

Not to be confused with Small Elephant who just cries at…things.

Like, seriously. Inanimate objects. Scents. Plants. Anything.

And my heart is light with relief, and delightfully heavy with an awareness of what I’ve been given, not just for this vapor of a life, but for eternity. Because He is good, I am so sure that God will save my children, and though my prayers for them are desperate, they are also confident. I think I will be with them forever, in the Eden we could have/should have/would have lived in were our hearts not so wicked and prone to wander…

and I rejoice in this knowledge.

But I live in a pilgrim’s body, with a pilgrim’s heart and a pilgrim’s understanding, and the dying part of me acutely feels the passing of each day we have on this earth together…

Even though I hope and believe in eternity, I long for it as if it doesn’t exist. And when I hold my newborn baby boy, a part of me praises God for the forever Kingdom we will be a part of, while another part of me mourns for this transient and blink-of-an-eye life that I can so tangibly feel in my arms and see with my eyes.

It passes so quickly, and the joys and beautiful moments and triumphs from which I would drink so deeply slip by as I scramble, wide-eyed, trying to hold on, trying to remember, trying to cling to the shadow rather than to the hope, and I am reminded over and over again that I am far too sinful and far too stupid to properly understand this great, big, mysterious, overwhelming life.

Holding Baby Shepherd…

it’s like holding Baby Gideon all over again.

6 and 1/2 years since the day my eldest and I were born into a mother/son relationship, 6 1/2 years since my soul was awakened to the nurturing fire of motherhood, 6 1/2 years since my feet were set on a path to dying more and loving more and feeling more and wanting less…

and as I breathe deeply of the sweetly indescribable scent of new life and baby lotion and as I feel once more that velvety soft baby skin underneath my chin, those 6 1/2 years of memories dance wildly about in my mind, causing me to cry, causing me to laugh, causing me to pray.

There are no words, really. Just silent meditations. Wordless pleas. Whispers of thanks. And maternal cries for help to survive the heartbreak of seeing them grow.

Gideon…

Rebekah…

Betsie…

and now Shepherd.

I would hold each of you just as you are for an eternity.

I would go back to any day in our history and stay there forever.

I would journey with you to our future and never leave your side.

And so I entrust us all to God, for safekeeping, knowing that one day our faith really will be made sight. The pilgrim will be gone. The citizen will be born. The mysteries will be revealed.

And we will rest in the place that our hearts have longed for since the day we first met.

“What a day, glorious day that will be…”

The Best Days…

The best days are not necessarily holidays or Christmas-bonus days or personal achievement days.

They are the days when you wake up in January to 70-degree weather. You have your husband open the bedroom windows before he goes to the shower and you lay in your bed for a near hour just drinking in the fresh, balmy air that shoots a steady breeze right across your pillows.

They are the days when you make yourself a breakfast tray and sit in your bed with the windows still open, slowly drinking your coffee and orange juice and marveling over how beautiful an ordinary day can be.

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They are the days when your Princess lays on her fluffy pillow bed nearby, gazing out at her Kingdom and mirroring your own appreciation for nature and fresh air. “Doing good, Mudder?” she regally asks as you continue to sip your coffee. “Doing REALLY good,” you answer, thinking that only the addition of a ladies’ maid could make this morning better. (Cause somebody’s got to fix that hair…)

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They are the days when you dress how you want and you spend the hours how you want, and the only thing you need is a good friend to give you a push or two.

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They are the days when you sit on the front porch and watch your greatest blessings, and you think you might just be tasting Eden…

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You thank God all day for the reminder of what life should be like, and you pray over your children, yearning for the day when all of you will live, and work, and play there forever. Together.

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I think we should have more days like this, don’t you?…

(And I mean that).