The other day I went shopping with a friend and I seemed to see cranky children everywhere we went. Little ones yanking on mom's legs, big ones mouthing back....endlessly irritating. And I realized that God was showing me something important, because with every one I was silently saying, "Thank you, Lord, that's not ME".
I loved, passionately loved, being a mom, through all the stages - and still am loving this amazing job of mine. And for the longest time there was a little voice that would hope, every month, that another small person would be added to our household. I would wish on stars, wishing wells, candles...and when nothing happened, the desire quietened to just an occasional, "Gosh, I wish...". Finally, I got to the point where I was hardly ever thinking of a new little one. Then, that "time of life" caught up with me, and I expected to feel at least somewhat mournful that now there was no chance of a new child. Instead, this moment of grace occured.
I realized that I have had my time, and, oh, what a time it was. I got every drop out of it, and savored it, but I don't want any more. I'm content. I'm happy with young adults, and excited by the adventure of life that is awaiting them. I'm also tired, so tired that I'm grateful that I'm not chasing small ones around.
We are told to expect seasons of our lives. In Ecclesiastes, Chapter 3, v. 1 - 9, we are told that "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, a time to die..." God has shown me that my season of motherhood is coming to a close; that although I will always be a mother, that my active mothering is no longer as needed. Instead of being sad, and trying to hold on to this, I should be joyful and expectant - what will He bring into my life now? What season will this be for me? I don't know yet, but I do know one thing. It will be blessed, because He will bring it to me.