Some Things You Just Can't Get Back

Time, like the words we choose, is something you can't take back. Time can be sectioned off, blocked off, shared, given, consumed, rushed, slowed down, stressful, relaxing etc. And try as you might, you can never get it back once it's gone.

Over the past several months, I have been thinking about time and how it is slipping away from me. Hallie turned 3 years old on Easter, and it came as a bit of a shock. Every thought about time that I've had in the last few months came to the forefront of my mind. And I must admit, it felt like walking face first into a brick wall.

My little girl is growing up. And there is nothing I can do to slow it down.  Everyday she says and does new things that amaze me.  Just a couple of days ago, we were outside on the driveway drawing with sidewalk chalk, and when I drew a picture of a sun, she drew one  for the first time that actually looked like a sun. I was taken aback.  She can now copy different types of lines that I draw with the sidewalk chalk. And today we were outside with the chalk and she started scribbling on the cement and announced with unabashed joy that the she was going to draw a rocketship that was "going to outerspace".  All I could think in response to this was "Where has the time gone?" and "When in the world did she get so smart??".

A small piece of my heart broke (maybe you could even say cracked) a little when I thought about how she is no longer the tiny baby we got when she was just shy of turning 1 year old.  In just two very short years, she will be one summer away from starting kindergarten.  And when I am away from her, I can almost physically feel those precious moments like countless tiny granules of sand slipping through my fingers. And this scares the crap out of me.

We waited so long and prayed so hard to get her.  My heart is often heavy when I leave her to go to work. She has told me often lately that she doesn't want to go to the sitter's, that she wants me to stay with her.  I have thought about how this affects her, and how it affects me. And the only real conclusion I can come to, and have come to is this: if time and its moments are like those tiny granules of sand slipping through my hands, then I am going to work like hell to scrape together and grasp what sand I can to make a sandcastle of memories that no wind, water, or person can take away from me.

The decision is pretty simple.  I'm not going to work for a while. I love my job. I love the places it takes me, the people it brings me to, and just the sheer joy it brings in to my life. I do believe there is a time and a season for everything, so with that in mind, and with the knowledge that my job will always be waiting for me when I am ready, is a blessing that not many people can possess.

This time, this season, is the time for me to be with my daughter, to teach her, to relish the world in and through her eyes, and to exist in a world that is so much better because she is mine.