I've been putting this off for a while. See, I wanted to wait until I had it all together, got all caught up, tied all my loose ends, felt on top of everything before I created something new to keep up with. But I write today from the very middle of it. Meals need to be prepped. Lesson plans need to be written. Closets and cabinets and drawers need to be reorganized. Pictures need to be culled through and printed and shared. Lots of things need to get done. Lots of things always need to get done.
But this day, this place in time isn't always going to be fresh on my mind, fresh enough to sit down and write about what it feels like, sounds like, looks like to be here and now in my family's story. I'm almost 7 months into motherhood, and I already feel like Hudson's childhood is slipping through my fingers. You just can't bottle up how sweet a newborn's fuzzy head smells or how your heart swells when their head rests heavy on your shoulder. But I sure can try.
This blog is my shot at bottling it all up, documenting all the memories I never want to forget. This is where I'll celebrate the big and little moments that I'll want to keep transporting myself back to over and over when my children are grown and gone. And I pray that it will somehow encourage you in whatever season of life you're in to seek out the good stuff and rejoice in your story right where you are. Our stories are so important to tell because they're a part of God's great big story of continually revealing himself, loving, rescuing, and restoring the world. Our story is woven into the grander narrative of God bringing heaven to earth.
So here I will write about my heaven, about babies cooing and soup steaming and friends forgiving, about paints and music and arranging flowers, about mental health and conflict resolution and gift-giving. I hope my words serve as a blessing to you and to my children and their children and their children's children.
This is my story. This is my song. Praising my Savior all the day long.
Photography by Kathleen Pieratt Photography.