40 Days... she counted them up and is ticking them off. “40 days ‘til move in day!”, she announced with excitement and disbelief in her voice last night.
40 days, the biblical parallel did not escape me. 40 days in the desert that Jesus prepared for his public ministry, 40 days and nights that it rained and the flood waters rose, 40 days and nights that Elijah was given food, water and protection while he traveled to Horeb/Mt. Sinai... just a few that come to mind.
40 more sleeps, 40 more days of living, laughing, loving and her waking up under our roof every single morning. 40 days for me to get myself together and prepare for this next stage of parenting. Moving on to the next stage has never before been so clearly defined. The lasts so clearly marked. We didn’t have much notice on the day that a lap baby became a walking/running toddler, a frustrated toddler finally spoke her first sentence, the last time we rocked that little blonde snugglebug in a rocking chair, the last time she wanted one of us to lay down beside her as she drifted off to sleep, the last time she crawled into our bed in the middle of the night, the last morning snuggle with a sippy cup of milk and her “granma have” or when we stopped reading to her and she began reading to us.
Me, I’m counting Sundays... 6 more.
Sundays will be the hardest. A family gathering for worship, a church choir without her, no one to tell me that my slip is showing or mascara is running, gathering around the table for a restful meal without her there.
Some days, I’m as excited as she is... and some days I just want this time to pause. Moving on to “the next adventure” is always bittersweet.
So, I will take my 40 days of preparation, savor each one, be thankful, be sad when I need to, trusting that the Lord will sustain us and give his strength when the hardest moments come.
101 in 1001
1 day ago