How To Enjoy Every Season of Motherhood (For any mom who has ever cried in the laundry room)

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My middle one dressed in black and white on Tuesday in celebration of autumn equinox.

Her brother looked up from his pancakes just long enough to notice Hannah’s out-of-the-ordinary outfit and asked, “Why are you dressed like a zebra?”

She poured her Rice Krispies and raised a knowing eyebrow. “Because it’s autumn equinox today,” my girl replied with fifth-grade sure-ity. 

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Josh stared at his sister with mild interest. “What’s aqua-blocks?”

Hannah laughed and responded in perfect teacher tone.  “I don’t know what aqua-blocks are, but Equinox is the moment when the Sun crosses the celestial equator…”

The teenagers at the table raised their eyebrows in a silent admission of admiration, and Josh pushed his chair away from the table with a screech across the crumb-crusted tile. He shrugged his shoulders ambivalently, then headed upstairs to find his socks. When he reached the landing, we heard him mutter, “I didn’t even know we lived by the equator…”

Hannah shook her head and giggled, a dribble of milk dripping un-lady-like from her tongue.  “He’ll understand it when he’s in fifth grade,” she assured me as she wiped her mouth with the back of her black and white sleeve. We exchanged impish grins; then gathered coats and backpacks and piled into the mini-van for our drive to school.

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Crimson apples dangled from the chestnut limbs, and bean fields shimmered golden in the morning light. Black-eyed susans shivered half-naked in the ditches, while pearl drops of dew be-jeweled the roadside grass.

And when we came over the hill and beheld pink streaks of daybreak draped like tinsel across the browning fields of corn, even my noisy kindergartner peered out the window with wordless wonder.

Summer may subtly slip away, but Autumn frolics in with fanfare.

 I’ll admit, I don’t remember much about equinox or the celestial equator, but I do know this….

This spinning orb of of dust and dirt has a seraphic September glow, and Autumn sure knows how to showcase Heaven’s beauty.

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These days the earth smells wetter. Richer. Browner. And morning’s breath is crisp and calm.

I’ve noticed the change in the fields for a while now, the way green has given way to gold and the shimmying shadows tarry longer.

But it’s the maple flaming like a crimson candle right outside my bedroom window that caught me by surprise as I arranged the pillows yesterday on my freshly-made bed and gathered the scattered laundry off the floor.

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I was hurrying from the room with that armload of dirty clothes when I spotted a streak of orange out of the corner of my eye. I paused in the doorway and shuffled back to the window where I stood silent, nose pressed to the finger-printed pane. I’m not sure how long I stood there, eyes drinking in that magnificent inferno right in my own yard. But I remember wondering how many times I’d walked by that very spot without seeing the change taking place beyond the glass.

When did those limbs turn to flame and why haven’t I noticed ’til now?  

 Maybe I was just tired or maybe the house was too quiet, but my eyes began to seep and my stomach lurched a little.

Because that maple reminds me that seasons just keep changing whether we pause to notice or not.

Sometimes, my stomach reels in the same way when I slide my toes into my daughter’s cute turquoise shoes and wonder how in the world those little-girl feet have caught up to mine. 

And  just this morning  I stood in the laundry room much like I’d lingered by that bedroom window, and I stared at the varsity football jersey hanging on a drying rack right next to a little green soccer shirt.  And I felt that mix of awe and angst rising from my toes to my throat because big-brother’s  jersey looked like it might swallow up little brother’s game shirt kind of  like the years have swallowed up the minutes and hours and days that I thought would last forever. 

And even though I’ve sworn I’ll never cry over the mounds of laundry that decorate my days, I stayed there in the laundry room and let the tears stream steady. ‘Cause the seasons of motherhood are constantly changing, and if I’m not careful, I can miss the blazing beauty of now.

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If I turn my head just for a minute, I won’t notice the way my fourteen year old’s curls fly happy when she’s dancing crazy in the kitchen with her Daddy.

Or how my mini-man shrinks in love when he squats to listen to his little brother tell a joke without a punch line.

And if I fix my eyes on my to-do lists or my text messages, my dirty toilets or dirty floors, I’ll miss the beauty of my fifth-grader’s smile or the happy skip in my kindergartener’s step.

And one day, I’ll find myself looking out a clean window at a blazing maple, trying to remember the fingerprints that used to dot the glass with smudges and smears. 

I don’t want to be just seasoned by life; I want to savor each of life’s seasons. 

The morning light danced across the carpet as I lugged a basket of clothes out of the laundry room and up the stairs. And  the bright autumn sunshine cast shifting shadows on the coffee table while I sorted socks and folded faded jeans, made piles of princess panties and superhero briefs.

And on this third day of autumn, ripe with sunshine and hope, I let the words that never wither or fade dance, too, right there on top of my scattered thoughts and pressing prayers…

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Whatever is good and perfect is a gift coming down to us from God our Father, who created all the lights in the heavens. He never changes or casts a shifting shadow.” (James 1:16)

 The gospel seeped slowly into my marrow as I stared out the window and watched an orange leaf waltz wordlessly with the wind. And this mom who’s trying new tempos and re-learning old rhythms realized this simple truth once again– The only way to savor these ever-changing  seasons is to anchor our hearts to the One who never changes.  

And to open our hands to the present, His good and perfect gift.

 

Dear friends, what are you savoring about your current season of life? Let’s celebrate together in the comments so we don’t grow blind to the gifts of today!

 

 

 

 

Alicia

8 Comments

  1. Ellen Keiser says:

    My sister, Sarah Teitt, introduced me to you and your Web site the other day and after reading this post, I am literally sitting here with tears streaming down my cheeks. It has been one of those weeks where I’ve felt overwhelmed and struggled to find balance as a full-time working mom. I work out of the home, so often the lines are blurred between work and home and I find myself feeling like I’m drowning. Earlier this week, I literally found myself in tears in the bathroom when at the end of a long day, I discovered that my 6-year-old had attempted to peel a hard-boiled egg in the bathroom. As I got down on my hands and knees to pick up the tiny pieces of shells that scattered the floor, I prayed that God would give me the strength to do those last 10 things that needed to be done before I went to bed. This post – your words are once again a reminder that I must embrace the craziness and business and cherish EVERY moment and season I spend with my daughters and my husband. I know this, but yet I somehow find myself focusing on the wrong things. Thank you for this beautiful message, Alicia! I am so grateful to Sarah for sharing your wisdom and ministry with me!

  2. Alicia, what a blessing this blog was to me. As tears stream down my face I am struck with the realization that I don’t ever feel like I’ve done enough. My oldest will be in college soon and I can’t help but feel that no matter how much I have done or haven’t done I would still feel that it wasn’t or isn’t enough. I have to get a hold of these false ideals. I think I’m grieving the fact that he will be living away from home so soon… that this season is almost gone forever. I think my nostalgia makes my soul ache.

    1. Alicia Bruxvoort says:

      Oh, Tara, I’m right there with you. I still remember having a mob of little ones under my feet and feeling like it took an eternity just to reach lunchtime some days. And now? The weeks and years are a blur, moving so fast I can barely keep up. Your words are so true for me, too… nostalgia does make my soul ache. But when I look backwards through the lens of praise, it’s a good ache- if that makes sense! Praying for you and that sweet son of yours. May Jesus be enough for you both in these years of loving and letting go.

  3. renee roozeboom says:

    Alicia,

    Happy birthday sweet friend. I read your postings all the time! Most the time I feel my tears bubbling up when I read them. I, too, am going through seasons of change in motherhood. With my firstborn being a highschool senior, I have had some sleepless nights thinking of all the “stuff” to do!! Your words always touch me tenderly:))

    Love, Renee 🙂

  4. I was out the door early this morning on my way to work as always..noticing the messy kitchen and the shoes on the living room floor…tired from being up in the night with a sick teen…counting bills in my head…wondering what i could possibly make for dinner tonite…kinda overwhelmed and underrested.then i walked out the door and saw the rain falling soft and steady.it smelled good and sounded pretty and i said oh thank you,God.instant peace and perspective.like a tiny reminder of how blessed i really am.

    1. Alicia Bruxvoort says:

      Oh, Kara, thanks for this beautiful testimony of SEEING the gift in your today. Yes, we are blessed. Always. Because we’re His!

  5. “I don’t want to be just seasoned by life; I want to savor each of life’s seasons.” So true, if we are not careful life has a way of just passing us by. After a very hard season of life, I am enjoying it all, girding myself with God’s strength to move beyond self and savoring the beauty of His creation. Your pictures and words (and words painted with pictures) are all so beautiful here today. Tears in the laundry room are good – to me it means you are living life to the full.

    1. Alicia Bruxvoort says:

      Mindy, yes- just letting life pass by- that’s my fear and sometimes my laziness. I am celebrating with you as you move in new strength and emerge from a hard season. I, too, am coming out of a dark and gray stretch and it seems the “colors’ of God’s presence and love are all the brighter now. Much love to you, friend.

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