Growing Up and Growing Old Together

We were so young. Those rounder faces, the naïve love that is shining out of our eyes. Babies. We figured we knew what life was all about and what we needed. I love to look back at these pictures and remember those feelings – of excitement, joy, pure love.

I used to feel cheated – that nobody told me what married life would be like. I felt wronged that no one had taken off my rose colored glasses and told me that it wouldn’t be easy.

It wasn’t for them to teach me. This was something that I had to go through myself. It was something that I had to learn on the way.

But also, I now treasure how trusting I was. How I so blindly believed that God was leading me and us in the direction that He wanted us. And look at where that has brought us today – how could I go wrong in simply choosing to trust? In believing that whichever way my life may go, He is guiding us and knows what is best.

Nic and I will grow old together, but we also grew up together. Seven years of learning together about ourselves and what we want our life to look like. Seven years of learning new pieces of each other and ourselves. No matter what we go through in life, whatever issue may come in between us, I am strong in our love. I know that we can get through anything, because we are in this together.

A Safe Place

His eye is bothering him again. He got something in it at school today and now that it’s approaching bedtime - and everything feels ten times more emotional – it sounds like someone is cutting his arm off. The first couple of times I was able to soothe and comfort him truly from a place of love, but tbh it’s getting kind of old now. I breathe in and out a few times and let my frustration go; once again, I open my arms to hold him close.

I want to be my children’s safe place. I want to be the one that they turn to when they are hurt, troubled or upset. I want them to know that I will always be there for them. That my hugs never run out. I want them to never question my love for them.

Between struggling with depression and the regular daily ups and downs, I wonder if they know this. Am I doing a good enough job showing them this? Am I remembering to have patience? Do I stop in the middle of my task to give them the hug that they are so clearly wanting?

Do they approach me, unsure of what response they will get? Or do they know that no matter what mood I am in, there is always love for them?

I think back to my childhood, and the feeling of safety and comfort that comes with the memories of home. Always knowing that I am loved and known inside of those walls. That the people accepted me as is, and there was always love and forgiveness.

I want to create that same safe haven, in our home and in my heart, for these precious gifts of mine.