Bits & Pieces

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I’ve maintained for years that there is no balance in life, that people searching for that perfect place where every area of life get equal slices of time and attention will always come up short in God’s economy. There is no way to be all things to all people; that role was only meant to be filled by God Himself. I’m living the proof of that now in a new way; if I’d had any hope of scales finding equilibrium this fall, I was sorely mistaken.

Instead, I am spread blessedly thin. Pulled for years in two distinct categories (big kids, and little kids) I now find myself somehow adding a third– early pregnancy. If there is a blessing in hearing your adult daughter share her lesson planning strategies for her own students while curled on the couch waiting for a second grader to read a Rosetti selection to you from his Treadwell primer, surely there is a deeper joy in doing it all while trying valiantly not to fall asleep. I am receiving updates from Jack in another state while scheduling OB appointments and overseeing violin practice. There is no balance. There is only the full-to-the-brim daily life of people growing in all directions.

Right now, by necessity, a large helping of my energy and attention is focused squarely on this little person we haven’t yet met. I’m napping almost on the daily, thanks to a husband who insists I make it a priority and children who value their own daily rest time as much as I do. I’m spending a lot of time in prayer for this little one. Knitting is, for me, an act of prayer in motion, and I picked up my needles last week and set about finding the words in my heart to express my gratitude and my hopes to the One who has sent us this gift. I’m having to spend time, too, navigating for a third time the world of gestational diabetes– only this time, much earlier than anticipated.

But of course there is more going on here than a baby. Christopher has been preaching out of town for the past four Sundays. John Mark and Birdie auditioned for youth symphony, not knowing what it would look like but still praying to glean some of the benefits of involvement. As it turns out, both did well in their auditions and secured seats. Christopher’s virtual trainings around the globe have picked up steam and are happening weekly. I put out feelers for an art tutor for Phineas this week. CC meets every Thursday, with Christopher also directing Fridays as well. Violin times 2 and cello times 1 have resumed in person private lessons. Jude is still in speech therapy, though I suspect we’re in the last leg of that race. There are weekly OT appointments for two kids. My husband is helping with a local initiative to bring Bible training to east Asian refugees.

And the adult kids? Their lives aren’t grounded here, but each has made efforts to connect daily. I can’t tell you how deeply this fills my heart. Texts, calls, postcards, a photo of a chubby caterpillar on a leaf sent for a younger sibling. That saying about children being pieces of your heart that walk around outside your body? So true. So wildly true.

So you see, there is no balance. There is no even distribution of my attention spread along a continuous plane. There is only each moment, and what it brings. Rest now, for the littlest one. Pulling down Mr. Squishy for the middles. A snatch of Scripture, sent to encourage an adult child across an ocean. Bits and pieces of time and focus scattered in faith, with love. The Lord has given me this season of aching fullness, and I am in awe of His graciousness.