The boys wrestling with their daddy on the rug.
The “hold my hand, Mommy” as we go down stairs every morning.
The way my oldest whispers to his baby brother as they fall asleep at night.
The “Mamamamama” jabber as the baby reaches for my face.
The laughter at the dinner table.
I know I will miss these things when they are grown because I feel the swelling these moments make in my heart. When these moments are gone, I will feel the space they will have left.
But the $4 of spilled blackberries.
The whining and pulling at my pants.
The learning (and learning, and learning, and learning…) to share.
The semi-comedic circus to get everyone out the door.
The constant questions. (O, sweet mercy! The questions!)
I want to miss these moments, too. I want to treasure them for what they are – fleeting. But with my current perspective, these moments aren’t expanding my heart. They are annoyances to me. Isn’t that the strangest thing? How does it happen that my children learning and needing me has become, in my eyes, a burden?
O, let it not be so.
I want God-eyes to see the preciousness in my near-three-year-old’s efforts to put away the berries himself. The connection OBrother and I have formed that makes him so long to be close to me. The foundation for the future of my boys’ friendship which we are laying now, on the floor of the playroom as they learn to share. The excitement that awaits us on the other side of that front door. The curiosity and learning spirit of OBoy.
I want to see those beautiful sides of these imperfect moments. I want my heart to expand at the blessings, not shrink and harden at the burden. I want these moments to grow and stretch me so that when they’re over – even the messy ones – my heart feels their absence and remembers them with fondness.
May I see the God-breathed beauty in every moment and may I miss them when they’re gone.