Four Girls Later

Hey sweet friends, spring is springing that’s for sure. I might be biased because I’ve called North Carolina home for almost all of my life, but there is something so unique and beautiful about spring time in North Carolina. Everything is green and blooming and baby animals are abounding. It truly signifies a very tangible way in which the Lord is making all things new. 

I feel like the aforementioned sounds exciting for the plants in my yard, for the difficult circumstances I face, the deployed spouse that comes home, the medical question that gets diagnosed. But what about new when you love something, just the way that it is? 

I’m going to shift gears here for a second, but I promise I’m going somewhere if you’ll just stay with me. 

The last decade of my life I have either been pregnant or nursing babies. My youngest daughter recently turned two and I think this is officially the longest I have gone in between nursing and pregnancy. All of this to say, I am pretty sure the season of babies has come to an end for our family. To be honest, I almost have to choke back tears while typing that. For me, there is something in the finality of speaking things like this out loud. 

One of the sweetest men in my church came up to me this Sunday and said, “You’ve been doing it for so long, what are you gonna do when you don’t have a little girl on your hip anymore?”. After I picked my jaw off the floor, I swallowed the lump in my throat and thought… “hurry up Sara, answer before you look like a total basket case”. To which I answered, “Well I guess the next right thing is to walk along side those that are on the ground”. 

I have not stopped thinking about this interaction. In truth the word obsessed over is probably more accurate. 

The past 10 years of my life have been glimpses of heaven on earth. These girls have painted my world in color. Their laughter a soundtrack I could play forever and never tire. They have taught me so much about life and love and grace. Being a mom is everything I ever could’ve dreamt of, and more. The truth is, on each of their birth days, a new version of me was born. On that sweltering day in 2013, middle Tennessee, I waddled into the hospital one person and I walked out completely different. The funny thing is, this has happened every single time. Each of these unique, beautiful girls has changed the literal fiber of my entire being.

And so there in lies the truth. My entire being. I have so closely held my identity and the role of mom of little girls. In fact, the line hasn’t just blurred, my husband would say I lost all delineation. 

So where does the truth separate from the lie? Is being a mother always going to be part of my identity, yes. Is being a mother of babies my entire identity? No. 

We recently played in the snow and as I watched my girls roll their freshly fallen snowballs along the ground, dirt and other debris became one with the snowball as it grew larger and larger. So too are these individual seasons, being collected in memory and heart, transforming me and herein my identity every day. 

So the truth is, a new thing is happening in my family. We aren’t just closing the chapter on the baby stage, we are closing the chapter of elementary school for my oldest daughter. I have loved every piece of this season, but alas healthy things grow, and growing we are. 

So I’ll hold both. I’ll allow grief for the goodbye of something beautiful and hold joy for the hope of what’s to come. I’ll walk hand in hand with these beautiful growing women as they discover their own identities, appreciating all the ways they are changing mine. 

If you’re facing something new, whether hesitantly or welcomed, I hope you give yourself the ability to feel both. Yet I pray, the emotion that rises to the top is one of hope. 

To new things. 

Shine your light. 

Xoxo, 

Sara