{moments}

Moments.
That's what I've been learning about this summer.
This season of life has found me stifled in some ways.
As one who deeply values family time and all of us together,
it felt awkward and unfaithful to plan things with only four of the five of us present.
And so I didn't.
I thought that in some way I was preserving something from the past;
that I was protecting our identity as a family of five.

But I wasn't really living---
and certainly not living with joy.

The other night my husband spontaneously suggested we go mini-golfing.
My heart resisted, as our oldest college-age son was away for the week,
and mini-golf has always been something we do together as a family.
And yet I had just noted to my husband earlier that here it was mid-July, and I still hadn't crossed off anything from our summer bucket list.
I was waiting for the right time,
waiting for everyone to be home,
waiting for yesterday.

And so we went.
Four of us (and my parents).
And we laughed.
And we talked smack.
And I putted poorly.
And we ate ice cream.
And we made new memories.

Again I remembered what God has been impressing on my heart:
life isn't made solely of big, planned vacations.
It consists not of destinations or all chairs filled around the table or big stretches of family togetherness.
Certainly, those are all good.
And those have been part of what's given us identity and brought us to where now stand---
grounded and secure and tight.
But with a college-age son and two more who will follow suit before we know it,
life is changing.
It's different than ever before.
Boys have watched and learned and grown through all of our yesterdays.
And now they're showing themselves men.
They're working and stretching and rising to meet challenges.
God is shaping their hearts to love and lead and sacrifice.
He's expanding their spheres and their worlds and their influence.
It's good.
And it's as it should be.

The truth is,
our numbers are going to continue to dwindle around these here parts (before, Lord-willing, building back up again).  :)
The planned traditions of our past may change and transition and be a pale reflection of what we once knew.
But I'm learning to be grateful for the unplanned, surprise, grace-filled moments that catch me unaware and breathless---
like when after a week apart, God unexpectedly and graciously returned everyone home within 5 minutes of one another and we all eagerly shared all that had taken place since we were last together.
Grace.
Or the next week, when everyone was finally reunited at 11:30pm on a Sunday night.
And I caught the sparkle in my son's eyes sparkle when he saw me.
And we---all five of us---gathered 'round the table to see pictures of his week away.
And as we were catching up and sharing adventures and stories and hearts,
the music already playing transitioned to "Life Is Beautiful."
And I cried for the sheer joy of it.
For I was reminded that when all is changing and rearranging and transitioning,
God sees and knows my heart.
He's given us the gift of these ordinary moments.
And I cupped my hands open to receive them with grateful joy.

"...I will rejoice in the Lord;

I will take joy in the God of my salvation."

Habakkuk 3:18