Joining in with Lisa-Jo and the rest of the group this morning again.
I read the word “jump” and felt paralyzed by it. The way I did when I read the word “after” the other week. There seems to be no “after” in this stage, just one act of care taking moving into the next, day and night.
But a few years ago, “jump” was my life. It feels like risk and tastes slightly of fear. It’s loaded down with uncertainty. And it gave me a joyful thrill right down to the bone.
From Missouri to Florida and back again. To college. To California. To Europe. To Mexico. To Chile. To Argentina. To Minnesota. . . And on and on.
Some lasted weeks, some months, and some years. But I plunged headlong into each new adventure with joyful anticipation.
I love that feeling of driving away from something and into the next adventure. The freedom. The adventure. The letting go and not knowing what was next. Like all those strings that were attached are cut.
Hurl yourself headlong and wildly into whatever may come. It’s the way that my son lives every second of his two year old life.
But what about now? In this time of diapers, nursing, naps, meals for everyone the idea of “jumping” hardly seems within reach. In waking throughout the night and generally being within arms reach of one or both children.
There is so much of my life that keeps me grounded. There is so much that holds me in place. There has been so much growth here. Roots going in deep into that Great and Glorious Love. God has worked so much into me and out of me, since kids.
There will be other “jumps,” but they will have this time things I lacked in the past. The ability to stick with it, and see things through. Experience in the mundane. Strength I didn’t know I had. And deeper knowledge of love beyond measure.