faith

This morning, like most mornings, I made Justin a lunch of peanut butter and jelly and sent him out the door with a kiss. Then I went upstairs and read the book I'm currently working on until I heard happy chatter coming from Audrey's room. As I hurried to finish the chapter I heard her call "Mooommm! I looovvvee you!" from her room and had to laugh and stop mid-paragraph to go pull her out of her crib. We came downstairs and made her favorite breakfast of "cocoa and toast with pepper on it" per her request (she calls butter, "pepper"). And as I stood in my pajamas in my little kitchen stirring milk and sugar and cocoa powder in a pot on the stove, I wondered about the future and what it holds for my family. I do that a lot. (the wondering part, I mean, not the cooking in my pajamas part).


There are times when I wish I had some sort of magic mirror or window that would allow me to see myself in the future for just a little while. I wouldn't need to look for long, I don't need every question answered, what I long for is just a small glimpse. If I could look into my life five years from now what would I see? It would be fun to get a tiny peek at what my Audrey will look like at 8 years old- and whether or not she'll finally have a little brother or sister. Would we still live in Boise? Would we own a home? Would I be shocked to see myself with a pregnant belly? I'm curious about all these things but my main concern would be our well-being. I'd like to see myself for an hour and know that everything works out okay at least in the short-term; that my family (large or small) will be safe, and settled and happy.


And how comforting this magic window would have been to me four years ago! We'd been trying to have a baby for a year already and I was in the saddest, loneliest place that infertility could take me. If only I'd been able to see myself this morning- to hear the "Mom, I love you!" from the other room and watch myself pull a bright, happy, bouncy little girl...my daughter... out of her crib.


Obviously I'm not the type of person that enjoys having things be undecided and up in the air. I frequently tell Justin that I'm looking forward to being an old grandma, sitting back in the house that I've lived in for thirty years and have it all be done- everything. All the big life changing decisions, all the struggle to do right by my daughter and husband, all the uncertainty of the future...finished. I tell myself how lovely it will be to have everything decided. To know that I've done my best and to know that for the most part I made the right choices. That's got to be better than the feelings of inadequacy and uncertainty that I experience almost daily as a young mother with so many worries and a baby that needs to be raised right, and decades of life yet to be lived stretching before me.



And yet I know that I shouldn't wish my life away like that.


I know that in the absence of a magic window, I must have faith. Faith in myself and the life that I've built, and will continue to build. And faith in my Heavenly Father to guide that life and help me when the challenges come.


I know that I should treasure and cherish every moment. That they'll pass me by all too quickly. I know that things change, that Audrey won't always fit in my lap, or be light enough for me to carry. I know that she'll soon be more independent and need her Mom less and less. And that I'll miss the feeling of holding her in my arms and having her chubby hands play with my hair. I know that life can change in an instant. I know that a car accident, or an illness could rob me of the people I care for most before I could even comprehend that they're gone.


And so- I'll have faith. And keep working. I'll keep sending Justin out the door with a kiss and trust that he'll come back to me safe and sound. I'll keep hoping that the future is bright, and as long as she'll let me, I'll keep making "cocoa and toast with pepper on it" for my beautiful baby girl.