Often I take to the blogosphere when I am struggling, yearning for fellowship and support. I vent, I find others who remind me that it’s okay to feel all my feelings, and that we should all expect frustration and setbacks.
Often parenting feels like being in the wild, seriously not sure if you are making the right decisions, worried about how many of you will survive (including the extra person we call The Marriage). I come right up against the flat, cold brick wall of my limitations so often that I can describe the texture of doubt and fear to you without a moment’s notice. Mainly, I am intimate with my endurance. Call it energy, motivation, whatever you want. I have a visceral knowledge of the frayed edge of my rope, now that the two of us are such good friends.
But I don’t often write when I am winning. When I feel like I could climb for days, just to see the view over the next peak.
This past week, my husband was on a business trip. At the start of that trip I had a mini session (for my photography business) that had been in place beforehand. The week before that, he was really sick for five days. Mostly he stayed in bed day and night.
A couple of days after his return, I shot back up for a wedding photographer in town. It was a hundred degrees outside, and it was pretty go go for six hours.
I woke up this morning, rehydrated, and we took the kids to the beach, where we all had a magnificent time.
The weather was perfect and hardly anyone was there.
We got home and the husband went to take a nap and I took the kids outside where they played outside for another hour and a half in the sun and the pool.
I captioned this on Instagram: sometimes watching moments as they go by is painful. Because I know I can’t possibly remember every tiny detail like I want to. Her deep concentration when she carries water in her bucket to the plants. Her chubby cheeks and her little voice answering Ben when he talks to her. Her waddle and squint against the brightness. How springy and exuberant he is, talking to everything, commenting on everything. The joy in a simple day with the family. I know I will want to come back here and watch her shuffle along and make him laugh and smell the smells and feel the feelings. I can only pray that God sends this moment back to me someday on the breeze.
I long to feel like this all the time but nothing can be done about it. I just ride the sweet wave when it comes my way. And this time, I am writing down the details so that I know what this unicorn looked like when it finally fades into the background.