May
3
2016
Slow Down
Posted in Motherhood 4 Comments
In a few days my youngest daughter will be taking her final exams.
When she finishes her exams she will be halfway done college.
It is not possible that the little girl I held in my arms twenty years ago is so grown up.
I’ve had the privilege of watching her grow all these years.
She has been an RA this year for a floor of forty freshman girls.
She has done an amazing job.
On Thursday nights there is an open invitation for the girls to come to her room for tea.
Like mother, like daughter since having tea together is a precious time for us.
So much is talked about over a cup of tea.
She is an amazing RA because she prays for and with her girls.
She has walked with them this entire year through their ups and downs as a first year student.
She has seen God answer prayers again and again.
In a week and a half she will be home for the summer.
I was in her room changing sheets and fluffing pillows.
I walked into her closet and looked towards the back wall.
That is the area I was just telling my husband about; the place where I would like some shelves.
All of her special toys from when she was a little girl are along that back wall.
It is a large walk-in closet, with plenty of room for her things.
I had forgotten about some of the toys she keeps there.
None of these things are private, they are just her special collection.
I began to look at them one by one without disturbing the way she organized them.
There was Bitty Baby, an American Girl doll that she carried everywhere.
There was a small chest of drawers that we found on the aisle that sells bins with lids.
That little chest of drawers holds all Bitty Baby’s clothes and accessories.
There were three large puppets that she expertly used at VBS and for children’s ministry.
There was a milk crate filled with baby and toddler books that all of my children enjoyed.
Then I saw the thing that made my eyes fill up with tears.
I saw the thing that literally marked the end of those little girl days.
I remember when she asked him.
Daddy, can you make a bed for Bitty Baby?
For my husband, who loves to wood work, that was an easy request.
He is able to make things out of scraps of wood that people pay quite a lot for in the store.
He made a lovely little bed for Bitty Baby.
I remember when he finished it and gave it to her.
I remember her smile.
I remember when she carefully laid Bitty Baby in the hand made, wooden doll bed.
The doll bed was right next to her own bed.
She could reach down and touch her precious Bitty Baby any time she wanted.
Not too long after receiving the doll bed, I noticed that it was moved to the end of her bed.
It was no longer next to her; there was no longer the need to reach down and touch her doll.
For the longest time, Bitty Baby came downstairs each morning in her arms.
Bitty Baby would sit wherever my daughter sat.
Bitty Baby went on all of our excursions and shopping trips.
Then one day Bitty Baby stayed home.
Then one day the doll bed got moved to the other side of the room.
Then one day the doll bed was placed in the closet.
Then one day Bitty Baby and all of her clothes and accessories found a permanent home there.
The next birthday, her list consisted of things for a much older girl.
Art, music, and anything creative seemed to take the place of play.
Finishing elementary school and moving on to middle school and high school happened.
Turning sixteen and studying for her driver’s permit took a lot of her time.
Babysitting allowed her to impact young children and enter into their play.
Her love of photography became her own business as she mastered more and more skills.
She brought to her photo shoots the same playfulness that was part of her all along.
Families appreciated her ability to photograph their children.
She never forgot the child she once was; it is an indelible part of her heart.
A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. (John 16:21)
Our children are on loan to us from the Lord.
We love them, train them, and teach them about Him.
We point them in the direction that they should go.
We encourage and support their God-given gifts so they can in turn give them back to Him.
The time we are given to take care of our children is not very long.
In the days of diapers and late night feedings, it may seem like this time will never end.
But it does end.
It ends much too quickly.
One day a doll bed will be nearby and one day it will be in the closet.
One day your child will be cuddling on your lap and the next day borrowing the car keys.
Our children are on loan to us.
They are never really ours; they are a gift from the Lord.
What a privilege it is to be entrusted with a child.
What a privilege to know their heart and be in the day to day moments with them.
Whether by birth, adoption, or foster care loving a child and being loved in return is a gift.
If the growing up could only slow down a bit, yet the brevity only makes it more precious.
As I am waiting for my 5th great grandchild, due in July, your post made me reflect on where and how fast the years have gone. Lovely post and video–thank you so much.
Sue,
Congratulations in advance! What a blessing! What a legacy you have begun! The time goes by much too quickly. Perhaps it is the job of us “seasoned” moms to remind the younger moms of how fleeting this time really is!
Gina
Oh Regina, this touched me. Alex is home for a month since he is in between leases in the city. Yesterday was his birthday. When he was four, I started to read a particular birthday poem to him on the eve of his special day. Once he turned 21, I fully expected to retire the poem. Not so! This young strapping 23-year-old still wanted to hear it on Sunday night.
You are the antithesis of an empty-nester, thank God. As always, thank you for sharing your gifts.
Cathy,
There are those moments, those books, those traditions, those favorite toys that make our heart wistful as we remember. Yet going forward and launching our children is what is supposed to happen. It doesn’t make it any easier. How precious that your birthday poem was still read! Treasure that sweet memory!
Regina