To Everything There is a Season

I wonder how this can both relieve and frighten me at the same time.

These last few days, as I have cleaned up vomit, changed awful diapers, coaxed little ones back to sleep, nursed the baby through excruciating pain, and washed bedding again and again and again, I have looked beyond today's present exhaustion and found consolation in the knowledge that this will not last forever...

...All the while, heart-broken because I know that I will not always be the one to lay a cool hand on the fevered brows, to hold her close when she cries in misery, to help distract from discomfort with books and songs and conversation. I am equally undone by the reality that this will not last forever.

These little bodies who get into mischief, cause me endless work, rarely give a moment's peace, and ask for my undivided attention are daily growing. And before I know it, they won't be coloring on the walls, dirtying countless diapers, singing and talking at the top of their lungs every waking moment, or begging me to play with them "just a few more minutes."

I try not to borrow sorrow; today has enough. Yet in my mind's eye I see down the road 10... then 20 years, and the tears that inevitably well in my eyes are good for me to feel running hot down my cheeks. They tell me that I ought not take this moment for granted. They tell me to love the season I'm in. They tell me that this day I'm living is worth living with every ounce of my being.

To everything there is a season.

I've no doubt the next season will be wonderful. I know God and I know that His promise is that the path of the just onlys grow brighter and brighter. But I've also no doubt that I only get this season I'm living once.

I don't want to just love it when I'm looking back on it, you know?

I want to love it today--runny noses, crying, cleaning, and all.