Gathering Stones
“It’s hard, that season of so constantly belonging to people who need so endlessly.”
When I read these words, they resonated so deeply within me. B E L O N G I N G E N D L E S S L Y. They sort of sank as they hit the surface, the weight of them falling slowly and deliberately. I felt validated and understood in my desire to grow and become more. I belong to the people around me by day and I belong to my dreams by night. But just like Emmet in the Lego Movie, I’m like “Ammmm I just gooonnnnaaa keeeeep fallliiinnnnggg foooorrreeeeevvvveeerr?”
When I find that a word or statement is on repeat in my brain, I have to get out of the whirlpool. This isn’t resistance training. This isn’t a drill, people. I’m getting pulled UNDER. So I go back to the words that started this cycle, knowing that their impact means there is some truth that I need to work out in my heart.
Endlessly.
There it is. It doesn’t take long to land on that one.
“Constantly belonging to people who need so endlessly.”
The words ignite something else in me.
Resentment? How’d you get in here?
Frustration? No, it’s cool. This is my job.
ET CETERA.
Exhaustion? I’m just gonna close my eyes for a minute…
I am savoring this season of motherhood and doing my best to be in the moment. Really. I’m also looking forward to whatever is coming next. I’ve had so many dreams over the years. It was easy when Brody was a baby to say, “I can’t wait until I have this time back to do what I want.” When Calvin was a baby, I thought, “I’m this much closer to that free time I’ve been dreaming about.” When we decided Wren was our last baby, I thought, “I’m almost there. I can’t wait to dig into that pile of dreams.” The funny thing about piles is that their contents grow less appealing over time. So now that the time is really almost here, I’m asking myself, “If it wasn’t worth it all this time, does it really matter now?”
While reading Just. You. Wait., Tricia Lott Williford’s newest book, I felt like my heart was being mentored. This woman has shared her story of loss, laughter, and loving again with such candor. Her words offered wisdom for this season and for those to come. They offered a reminder that our hope remains, life is a little bit ridiculous, and it’s okay to go after those big dreams that live in our hearts. So when I read the above quote, of belonging to people who need so endlessly, I felt the compassion of one who had traveled this road before. Isn’t that the sentiment we want and hope to have? We want the promise of nostalgia for a journey that is difficult, but not to be forgotten. We do not want to regret a heart that’s divided by multiple dreams. We want to see in the eyes of the moms that have gone before us that it was beautiful and worth it.
When I thought about this season I am in, it made me think of the infamous third chapter of Ecclesiastes where it says, “for everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven“ in the first verse. In my mind, I kept coming back to “A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together.” I mean, I skipped right past a time to live and to die, to weep and to laugh, to mourn and to dance. You know, things I’ve actually experienced. So I thought more about these stones and I kept picturing this time with my kids as gathering stones. I wondered if casting them out symbolizesd letting go of hurt, allowing our kids to grow up and enter the world, or seeking the fulfillment of dreams. I studied the verse deeper and found that Biblical scholars have a variety of ideas about what this verse could mean. One person felt that these stones could represent building or tearing down an altar.
Without giving away the entire book, Tricia discussed altars in a way that fit so well with the way this verse was taking shape in my heart. She created an easy way to remember its meaning by saying, “An altar is a place to recall how we have been altered.” So as I meditated on this verse, gathering stones and casting them away, I imagined this season of motherhood as a place with many stones, varying in shape and size, that create a design unique to our family. Mothering small children is not a place to move past and get through. It is a monument, a landmark, a milestone, a memorial. This season is a stepping stone. The time to dwell in this season was pre-appointed and scheduled in advance. There is time, even for this.
It is also a place to provide an example of how identity forms. Our kids are watching and the way we spend our time not only shapes us, but their view of us, themselves, and the world around them. We are not neglecting them when we work, when we take time to grow or become stronger, and when we learn new things.
We live in Ohio, where seasons are a suggestion. Summer could be a time of playing outside, swimming, and sunshine. In our case, it is a time of rain, flooding (swimming not recommended), and gray skies. There’s a small chance it will snow.
I find that seasons of life are like this too! I’m mothering, housekeeping, and growing as a wife, sure. I’m also a Christ follower, daughter, friend, and artist. I’m not one thing in this season, either. Many of you are working, going to school, caregiving, starting something big or trying to minimize in the excess. You may feel like a snow storm in July, but that’s right where you need to be.
If you find that you’re experiencing similar feelings or are in the same season of caring for others while dreaming beyond, I recommend reading Just. You. Wait. Have patience as you attend delicately to the season of gathering. It will yield the fruit you are longing for in the seasons to come.
