Making Space for Him to Bloom

I'm craving my own space, my quiet, my time to think, breathe. Find reprieve.

I'm missing what's been mine for the last five and a half years -- my midday security, sanity -- that's now slipping through my fingers.

I'm craving the ability to make things not change.

(I've never been good with change.)

Yes, I should be grateful for half a decade of nap-time solace (which means two years of mastering three boys' concurrent afternoon sleep.) And I am. I am SO thankful because I know it's been a gift to meet a need...

My need for a little uninterrupted time for me.

Write, read, pray, sleep. Work, clean, call, or weep. Ponder, wonder, dream, or sweep. Whatever the time is, it's alone time. Just me.

And I guess what's making me feel all angry and anxious is that I still have that need. But the means to meeting it must change, and I can't yet see how or when the replacement gift will come.

But the gift before me now is a little boy in tan shorts and a red plaid shirt, whacking away like a backyard golf pro.

He's beautiful and strong and sweet. He's stubborn and way too much like me.

I know I can't keep him small forever. I know he's meant to blossom, grow.

But today my son's sprouting (which I know will bear fruit, beauty) is a painful part of the process for his mama, who needs to make more space in her life, her heart, for him to stay awake and bloom.


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I'm joining Lisa-Jo and her beautiful friends to just write for five minutes, without over-thinking, double-checking, or worrying about getting it right. Today's word is Bloom.