It’s snowing outside. The flakes swirling down are as jumbled as my thoughts.
I have a wonderful husband. A beautiful son. I am a woman now. A wife. A mother.
How strange. I don’t feel matronly. I feel small. And young.
And sometimes I reach down inside and find that self of me from six years ago, and she’s still there. The desire to travel. The longing to help people. The fulfillment from being a leader. But all the insecurities are there too. And the laziness. And the apathy.
It’s not discontentment. But sometimes I want to break free from everything and go off on adventures. Re-live the time in my life that my mind always wanders back to and do things differently.
And my son clings onto my legs and looks up at me with absolute trust in his grey eyes and my heart melts. I belong here. My life is a blessed and lovely one.
How can I teach this precious little soul about the Lord if I don’t know Him anymore? I’m still trying to get back. Maybe that’s my problem. I’m trying to go back. Back to the relationship I had with Him. I should be moving forward. Looking ahead to the place He has prepared just for me. A new creation. A new relationship with Him. A new hope.
I was told many times that I could be lazy. And I remember being slightly offended at the time. Almost indignant because I’m considered a hard worker. I’ve come to realize it’s only partly true. I work really hard really fast so that I can sit down and be lazy. Getting things done fast isn’t necessarily bad. But maybe I should be getting things finished quickly so I can do more. Be more. Live more. Laugh more. Learn more. Instead of spacing out more, being on social media more, watching shows more. Funny how words I dismissed from a friend years ago can materialize out of nowhere and hit you like bricks, and you realize… they were right.
And you get caught up in thinking how strange life is. How with different choices, the life you are currently leading could be radically different. It IS our choices that define us, after all. And though I’m blissfully happy, a tiny part of me is left to wonder, “what if?”