“It Never Ends.”
These are the words I have found myself speaking over and over in my head. The bills. The chores. The driving. The working. The hustle and bustle of each day. They often seem never ending.
Sometimes, like the other day while loading the dishwasher, I even let the words slip out of my mouth. As I uttered those three small words, they echoed in my ears. It was almost as if the words were on repeat. Because, the truth is, the words are just an accurate reflection of how I’ve been feeling on the regular lately. I’m tired. I’m worn out. I’m overwhelmed. I feel each and every syllable of this phrase, as I try to jam a cup into the top rack in between seven others. As my adult son walks by, I say the words out loud and he hears them; and this time, as they come out of my mouth, I am stopped in my tracks.
As I watched my tall, handsome, sweet, funny, nineteen year old son walk through the room, I was reminded of my other amazing boy who never got to be nineteen.
Suddenly, I was shook by my own reality that, sometimes, it does end.
It ended for my sweet son. Life as we know it here – well, it did end. I’ll never get to wash another one of his dishes or pick up his dirty clothes off the floor. I’ll never get to remind him to put on his deodorant or not to forget his glasses. I’ll never get to blow up his cell phone have a heartfelt conversation with him. I’ll never get to deal with his moods swings or his back talk. I’ll never get to do any of the things that come with loving and serving your child. Not on this side of heaven, anyway. And that HURTS.
But, I GET to do all of these thing for my other three children. I needed this reminder… that it is a privilege to get to “do the things;” the things that can feel so unappealing in the moment, the things that make us want to scream and pull our hair out, the things that are so redundant, broken records haven nothing on the repetitious motions we perform over and over again.
I don’t have to – I get to.
I would give anything to have my son here – loving me, annoying me, hugging me and driving me absolutely crazy – to have more laundry to wash and one more mouth to feed. Because that is often what parenthood is like – a heaping pile of laundry and a full sink of dishes. It is the good and the bad, the ugly and the beautiful, the quiet and the crazy, all coexisting to make the most precious moments that go by way too fast.
I needed this reminder. Yes, me. A woman who has experienced the deepest of losses, a first born son in the prime of his life. A woman who still experiences moments of deep frustration and forgets how beautiful life is, a mom who yells at her children and misses it, sometimes. Maybe you needed it to. You are not alone. You are made to be their mother, and even when you screw up – you GET to do this beautiful thing called life.
“Every day may not be good, but there is something good in every day.”