Friday, December 15, 2017

A Fleeting Moment

If my life is a mere breath, here today and gone tomorrow, then what are these few, short, fleeting years I have with my kids?

Tomorrow we celebrate Michael's 15th birthday. Those 15 years have past far too quickly. On a day like today, it is hard not to look back and think about those years that are gone.

Psalm 90 made a huge impression on me as a young married in my early 20's. I was just beginning to search and pray for understanding regarding motherhood, almost desperately trying to understand God's design in comparison to cultural norms, and untangling all my misunderstanding and courageously face selfish desires. Babies were already in the picture, and the struggle for understanding and acceptance of truth was daily. "Who am I, and what am I doing with my life?" was my persistent question.

There is a real struggle in death, especially when we are called daily to the death of self. In the dying, though, I found the desire to live for something greater than my own present happiness. I saw that in the daily dying there was taking root a greater purpose for life than me, and I began to see the work of my life as something greater than the culmination of my days on earth. Through passages like Psalm 90, I began to see I can choose to live with eternity in daily view, knowing that life is a momentary breath while eternity stands, well, forever. It's not something we can afford to gloss over.

As a new mother, I began to understand that my life has eternal implications, and the work of my days will influence the eternal soul of my children. The Spirit used Ps. 90:12 in a particularly affecting way:

"So teach us to number our days
    that we may get a heart of wisdom."

If I am to be wise, then, I must look to the Lord for instruction rather than to the ways of the world. I must ask God to show me life as it is, not as it appears. These days are like a breath, a vapor, a dream. They are numbered. But they will count forever.


Several months ago, Michael and I spent some time at the botanic gardens. It was a rare time for just the two of us. A special time, really. I'm not sure where his interest began, but Michael has a peculiar fascination with plants. It was a pleasure for me to peruse the gardens with him. His knowledge regarding plants is fascinating and surprising; he is endlessly experimenting with new varieties and arranging/growing displays in terrariums. 

He is not as interested in being photographed, though! I do respect that, but hope he will let me take just a few for his birthday nonetheless. Here was the sole picture I took of him all day, with permission.

I don't remember the name of the plant pictured below, but this is some kind of death flower. Its putrid smell is designed to attract flies, which are then trapped and digested in the center.

(If I'm not careful, I will be taking you down a trail of thoughts with this flower of death... because life is not always as it appears. Be careful about where your affections lead you!)

A forest of cork...

I wanted to climb this tree, and a boy looking over my shoulder just now voiced the same desire.

Being a boy mom makes me enjoy taking pictures of bugs. I enjoy the challenge of inching up close as well.


The years of motherhood are wonderful to be sure, but they are not always easy. In fact, the best things in life almost never are. 

Because of the impression Psalm 90 made on me early in my mothering days, it is difficult for me to think of it outside the context of motherhood. It is such a special passage to me. These words have long been my prayer and plea to my God, the compassionate giver of good~

"Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love,
    that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.
 Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,
    and for as many years as we have seen evil.
 Let your work be shown to your servants,
    and your glorious power to their children.
 Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us,
    and establish the work of our hands upon us;
    yes, establish the work of our hands!"


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