Back and forth. Back and forth.
One day I want time to move. Just speed up and move so that all the things I want... will happen. I see a big muddy hole out the window. That's my basement. Meanwhile, cold rain blows and I know there isn't any work happening on it today. My dreams to once again live in my own home hang in the balance. I just want time to hurry up... spring to come and to finally put my daughter to sleep in her own room.
Then, I don't want time to move. My baby is already 14 months of and I really thought babies didn't grow this fast. They do. She brings me what I ask for and and laughs and plays and doesn't need all the milk she did and I just want to cry when she wiggles out of my arms and runs away.
I want to cry, "Baby, come back! Back to laying in a tiny ball against my chest with the sweet smell of newborn drifting to my nose. Come back!"
And Josh and I. I love him more everyday. Looking back, I was such a child when I married him at 18 years old, but when asked if I would do it again through all the struggle of being so young, "Yes, a million times, yes." Has it really been pushing three and a half years, though? Time, PLEASE slow down!
We all know it won't. Since Adam and Eve, people have prayed for time to speed up. The wife longing for her husband away at war. The child aching to be a grown up. The mother in the eighth month of pregnancy. And then they have prayed for time to slow. The elderly watching their grandchildren play at their feet. The cancer patient. The college student studying for exams.
Push and pull, back and forth. Yet, it moves all the same. Second by second, minute by minute.... year by year. I'm learning that God, in His mercy, is gracious. I learn to accept that the days gone by are days gone by and that my chance to treasure them has come and gone as my head lies on my pillow. The past is unchangeable and the future is untouchable. Ah, but the present, there is something we can do about that.
Let not the past become our regret, nor the future our fear, but the present our priority. If we can't find joy right here, we will likely not find joy somewhere out there.
Let the hole fill with mud and let little Miss grow day by day. I'm learning to be undaunted by it. When the day is over I pray I say, "I didn't miss a moment. I was all there and present to witness each miracle." Moments, be they sweet or bitter. Soon, "time" as we know it will be nothing, but for now I'm resting in the omnipresent hand of God.