Yesterday in the midst of a lively conversation at our Sister Circle at Daybreak, we were on a roll. I was at the dry erase board with marker in hand jotting down the things being shared about hitting roadblocks on our journeys and how we can help others. I just about couldn’t write fast enough, the thoughts were pouring so quickly from my Sisters’ hearts and minds.
A question came to mind in the middle of the discussion. When there was a break, I asked, “What season are we in?”
Miss G answered, patting her hand on the table in front of her emphatically, “This one. Right. Now.”
I was looking for Christmas as an answer, but okay.
This is just about the most perfect answer I’ve heard in a while.
Shouldn’t we all be in the season we are in now?
Let me rephrase this.
Shouldn’t I be (be present, let it be, be okay) in the season I am in now? Without looking back and losing myself in the memories of the seasons past? There’s a difference between remembering and dwelling. Or without worrying over the seasons to come? *patting the table for emphasis* Just be. In this one. Right. Now.
The season I am in right now is one of always having a little shadow and conversations constantly going and people following me into the bathroom, of running the dishwasher at least twice a day, and of mounds of clean laundry taking over the loveseat. Pretty much permanently. It is one of lessonbooks and storybooks flowing across the supper table and into chairs and stacks upon stacks on bookcases. It is a season of goodbyes, as I’ve had to say more than a couple of those in the past three years. It is also a season of saying hello to the new little ones who have come into our midst. The season I am in now is one of transitions–of learning to be Mama to a near adult and finding out what it’s like to go on without the love and wisdom of those who knew me first and best. In this season I am learning to embrace the color gray and I’m learning that the indignation of my youth has given way to a little more tolerance and a whole lot more perspective on what is really important in this world. This is a season of celebrating on a whim and making myself more interruptible and realizing that the good guys don’t always win. It is a season of grace–and I am thankful for the grace offered to me daily by those I love and by complete strangers on the street. It’s a season of being “with” and realizing that sometimes the only answer is there is no answer. And that I don’t always deserve what happens or comes at me in this life–both the good and the bad. I think my favorite thing about this season is the people whom I do still have with me–the folks who love me in spite of my meltdowns and tears, my frustrations and quirks. Those family and friends are what I love most about where I am right now.
One day the season will come where I will have more space than I want to myself. I will stop finding cars and Star Wars figures on my kitchen counter or in my purse. No one will call out asking me where something is or how to spell something. There will be no more Lalaloopsy versus Mighty World adventures. I won’t have extra clothes to fold or littles to pick up after. I will be able to sit with a cup of coffee at my leisure at ten o’clock or two in the afternoon and write to my heart’s content, instead of typing until my eyes are drooping way past midnight. I won’t have to maneuver around the teenager’s car in the driveway. It will be a straight shot to the road when I’m headed out–not on a “taxiing someone around” mission. I am thinking of all of these things not because I’m worrying over the season to come, but so I can put this season in perspective. This one is not forever. It is only fleeting, these moments of wiping noses on sleeves, correcting manners, and cuddling as we watch a show together. Life is too short, though the heartbreak and brokenness can make it seem long. Way too long sometimes.
The best season to be in is the one I am in now. I want to learn to embrace that.
This is where I am. And that’ll do for a Wednesday.