She had a two year old wrapped around her leg, holding on for dear life, while she bounced her crying newborn in her arms as we talked.
“What’s new with Mercy House? Oh and the refugee women in Houston?” I noted the longing in her voice. I started to answer and she whispered wistfully, barely audible over newborn noises, “I’m jealous of your life.”
I almost laughed off the comment–because my day had consisted of a crammed “to do” list, computer issues, a rushed meeting, dragging boxes to the car to mail, two dramatic daughters, several carlines and a tension headache.
My life is hardly worth being envious of….
But I knew she wasn’t talking about my day.
She was referring to my season in life.
And in a blink, I was the one standing in the kitchen of an older friend with a strong-willed two year old and a nursing baby, longing for my days to matter.
Dreaming of doing something big for God or at least getting enough sleep so I could dream. Or actually sleep.
I took her baby and patted his back, “Right now, your days are long. But the years are short. What you are doing-the burping, the diapering, the chasing, these days matter. Love is not waisted. Loving your babies is the most important thing you can do right now.”
I suggested a few things she could do from home (and directed her to this book) and offered a few ideas for her to help me out if she wanted to and she seemed excited.
But sometimes the best way to serve is to know our season.
And recognize its value.
This isn’t to say moms of littles can’t serve. But first you need to recognize being a mom of small ones is service. Service is never small.
Because you are the only one who can do it.
We often long to do more because we don’t believe what we do matters.
I love talking to others about saying yes. But we need to say it right where we are.
Maybe changing diapers is how God wants you to change the world right now.
I have more time to serve. My season allows it. But instead of having littles wrapped around me, depending on my body, I have kids who lean on me for a shoulder to cry on. And instead of sneaking out to Target when my babies were all asleep by 7pm like I used to, I’m up until 10pm listening to heartaches and headaches that tweens and teens often carry.
This is my season.
But just like winter blossoms into spring, seasons of motherhood change too. Sometimes they blow in like a storm or break the ground like a pastel miracle, new seasons are always coming.
So, don’t wish this time away. Embrace it. Enjoy it. Recognize it as your yes for now.
Because tomorrow the winds may change and you’ll have an opportunity to step out in a new way.
This just might be the most important thing you can do today.