I Can’t Believe I Get to Be a Part of This
Dear friend,
My family just walked out the door for our final day of coop. You should see the kitchen. And the laundry room. And the bathroom. And the floors. Ma dai.
Even though Stuart bears the brunt of our homeschool year, it’s no less true that we are both arriving at our final day of school a bit worse for the wear. Encouraged? Sure. Excited to see progress in the children? No doubt. Exhausted? YES.
When pennies and energy feel a bit short, I often remind myself that it is natural to feel such. The money we bring into the home accounts for every toothbrush, every piece of paper, every sock, and doctor appointment. Stuart and I are but two people covering the cost of living for six. Likewise, as parents do, we continually pour out our lifeblood into the next generation. We tend to their souls and their desires, filling our schedules with bible classes, jiu jitsu, piano lessons, and events with friends. My calendar is not just mine, but rather, is filled with pieces of life for six people. It’s no wonder it feels like a lot. Stuart and I are but two people living the lives of six.
As I type these words, I’m staring down an office that has been absolutely destroyed by printed essays, scattered flashcards, broken lunchboxes, tangled laptop cords, and historical figure costumes. My beautiful green buffet in the dining room is filled with worn math books and leftover nubs of pencils. Tubes of glitter glue are stuck to the edge of the drawer and there is a funky smell coming from Will’s cabinet that I’ve yet to brave finding. “After we finish Friday…” I keep telling myself. After Friday, I’m fixin’ to do some serious work with a few garbage bags and a deep seeded desire for order and cleanliness once again to reign.
My boys’ room is unspeakable. After we finish Friday…
But even amongst the chaos that it is May, it is good. Deeply good. Parenting is often presented as a sacrifice — as my life for yours. A giving up of what I wanted from life to provide our children with the life that they need. Parents, at the best of times, can be held up for being so selfless… so attentive… so sacrificial in the raising up of their families. But even amongst the absolute rubble that is the end-of-the-homeschool-year, it doesn’t feel like a sacrifice. I don’t feel like I had to give up life as I wanted it to be, or life as it should have been. I don’t feel that I’ve been sacrificial.
I FEEL LIKE: “I CAN’T BELIEVE I GET TO BE A PART OF THIS.”
I have four delightful weirdos that will greet me with hugs and kisses each morning. I get to live, for this short season, with these four souls that are wonderful reflections of a husband I absolutely adore. I got to carry them… nurse them… nurture them and love them. In fact, I get to love them unapologetically as much as I can possibly muster. I get to be a part of their birthdays, their victories, their sicknesses. I get to be their safety net, their sounding board, and a member of their inner circle. I have the privilege of being a beacon in their world, at least for the short while they’re at home with us. Praise God, I get endless affection and devotion and attention. I get to be Mama. This is hardly a sacrifice — this is one of the greatest gifts in the entire world. Lord, who am I!
A friend wished me happy birthday yesterday and the conversation went towards the fact that the 40-year-old who greets me in the mirror is so different than the one who greeted me when I was 20. To be beautiful at 20 is to have been born — youth is naturally lovely. In these years, we don’t have to do anything to earn our beauty; perky boobs and tight skin come naturally with the territory. But at 40? Or 50? Or 60? A truly beautiful woman at that age symbolizes a life of blessings, good choices, and being loved well.
My kids make me beautiful.
Those four souls racing around my house are the reason that I bear scars, the reason that my womanly figure is both accentuated and deflated all at once. My body sustained a decade of life for them, pouring out, yes, but it was not a sacrifice to use my body to carry and nurture their life — it was amazing. And after being able to bear witness to that transformation and life and growth and development, I still get to keep pouring out into them. There is no money, no calendar, no trip, no accomplishment, no job title, no “living my best life” that could ever, ever compete with what I get to do on the daily.
All that’s to say… here’s our new video for the week, which has nothing to do with any of this. But those of you who have been here for awhile know that if you can expect anything from Cultivating the Beautiful Life, it’s honesty — what’s on my heart will always be what you find tucked inside these letters. So while our new video involves a late spring garden tour and a favorite Roman bun recipe, you may have a better understanding of who I’m baking for and why we cultivate our home gardens in the way we do; it is an outpouring of the love and joy we feel here in the cottage for this life we get to live.
Love,
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