I'm writing this in the afternoon, all alone, sitting in a very quiet house. My sweet father-in-law took my two younger kiddos to his house to play, and they will be spending the night. They often ask to go, they love their grandparents and are blessed with the best.
So every now and then, I get these quiet moments.
I should cherish them, right? I mean, what mom hasn't said they could use some time on their own. Time to read a book, pick up the house, finish up a project or something. And I'm sure I'll do those things. The girl room needs work after all! But more often than not...when I'm in these quiet moments...it just doesn't feel right.
Perhaps it's because of the season of life that I'm in. Right now, my season is being a mom. With a not-so-big house, a family of almost six can be pretty loud when little kids are playing. For me, though, it doesn't seem strange or loud. It doesn't bother me when they run around the dining room table, even though I should teach them not to run in the house. When they are giggling and being silly together, enjoying their time, no matter what the noise level, it makes me happy. Because I have them. They are precious.
Don't get me wrong. Especially lately, as I've been hurting more often than not, sometimes I wonder if I'm being the best mom I can be when I just sit on the couch and let them watch shows or play on their own. If I'm hurting, I can't always direct them in the best way to play when they may actually seem wild to an outsider looking in. So there are days when I think, "It sure would be nice for them to go play with Papa and leave me here alone!"
But then they go.
And here I am. In the quiet.
And I don't like it.
And I might have had tears as I just typed that.
So while quiet seems appealing to me sometimes, sometimes I have to remind myself that when I finally get it, it's not really what it's cracked up to be. Because it's not really that season in my life. I'll have plenty of quiet later. In my season of an empty nest.
The Secret Is Out
1 day ago