Count It All Joy, Right Now
Lately the baby and I have been engaged in one of those epic battles that two year olds tend to wage with their mothers. She wants to do what she wants to do, and I want her to do what I want her to do. Case in point: we both want her to walk instead of being carried. But I want her to stay close to me, and she wants to run wildly in the direction of something more interesting in the distance. So I hold her and she squirms and cries, and she agrees through tears that if I will only put her feet on the ground, she will stay right beside me. So I, ever hopeful, put her down. Her resolve only lasts for about 45 seconds before she is off again, and then as I’m running behind her making a grab for the back of her tiny sweater, I remember why it’s always better to just bring a stroller.
Sometimes when she is sweet and smiling and hilarious riding in a basket at the grocery store, people will come to me and tell me how much I should enjoy this time and how I will miss it. Of course, they have no idea that I have a 19 year old, a 16 year old, and an 11 year old. All they know is that I have in my possession the cutest baby in the world, and that I should appreciate the fact. I think it’s easy as we grow older to remember the sweet, smiling, hilarious times and gloss over the sweaty, crying, epic battles. But I find myself in the unique position of feeling both things at once: I actively miss the time in our life that Chad and I used to call our “Golden Age.” It was the time when we had nothing but young kids and things just seemed simple and sweet. I have those rose-colored older mom glasses about that time of life. But then I also actively wish for an easier phase with the baby–one that includes doing fun things without so much stress and sweat, with more freedom.
When I was a child, my mom often told me not to wish my life away. She saw the tendency in me–in all of us, really–to look forward or backward without appreciating what God is doing right now, in this moment. It has dawned on me in recent days that I am sometimes dissatisfied in both directions: both in the wishing for future days and wishing for the past. It’s not a very spiritually satisfying way to live life. I’ve come to recognize that what I am really wishing for is for a phase of life that seems easier. Something that is less taxing, that helps me feel more competent and self-sufficient, and ultimately a life experience that causes me to rely on Christ less.
This is always the point that I come to in difficult times–that point where I realize that in my heart I often prefer comfort and ease over knowing Jesus better. I think about Abraham trekking up that mountain with his precious son, a son who had at one time been a sometimes sweet, sometimes chaotic two year old. Now he was older, and God was asking Abraham to do the impossible. Yet, we don’t see Abraham telling God that he would prefer an easier path. We don’t see him longing for a sweet past or a future that demands less of him. What we see instead is obedience and faith that God would reveal something about Himself. Abraham surely walked with dread in his heart at what might happen, but he was fully convinced that no matter what happened, God would keep His promises. Abraham understood, at least on that day, that knowing God is better than ease and comfort.
So quickly after one of our little tug of war moments where she and I both demand our own way, I catch a glimpse in my rearview mirror of this beautiful little soul. She sits in her carseat and sings at the top of her lungs, and I shake my head in disbelief that God has granted me the privilege of becoming her mother. Let’s face it, every baby complicates life in some of the most difficult, yet wonderful ways, and she, child of my heart, is no exception. Her middle name will be Joy. We laugh and say that, like Abraham and Sarah’s Isaac (otherwise know as “laughter”), she is bringing us joy in our old age.
It’s true, we’ll miss this. And things will also get easier. We’ve already learned this in the past two decades of raising babies who at times have given us a run for our money. Each and every day of parenting has its challenges, but maybe the biggest challenge of all is just learning not to wish your life away. The past was sweet. The future looks bright. But right now is filled with joys of all kinds, even when I’m running behind her in the shoe store, grabbing hold of her tiny sweater. God doesn’t expect her or me to be perfect, but in obedience I want to embrace the now, knowing that no matter what happens, He will keep all of His promises. Knowing Him (and knowing her) is better than ease or comfort.
Count it all joy.