It kills me that this photo is fuzzy. But it’s perfect and real. I love it. And I love them. Elisha’s birthday was yesterday, and I spent a lot of yesterday thinking back on the past eight years. I think it was partly because the picture above kept showing up in my head. My oldest holding my youngest. My oldest old enough to hold and carry and help care for my youngest.
Some days it feels like the past eight years have flown. On other days I’m so weary I want to do that whole combined years nonsense. You know like when a group of people or business want to inflate their experience by combining the total working years of the people involved. For me it would sound like, “But I’ve been parenting for a combined total of eighteen years, seven months, and eight weeks.”
But it has been a mere eight years. Eight years of learning what it means that children are a blessing from the Lord. Eight years of learning how to best love my children. Eight years of learning how to serve my children. Eight years ago today Elisha wasn’t much smaller than Asa. And today he is a lanky boy who is the big brother to three, who loves to draw and talk about all things Harry Potter and whistle and make Lego creations and make us coffee in the mornings.
And that last thing? It’s amazing. He loves doing it. We want to shout it to the rooftops to encourage parents with kids smaller than ours, wading through the toddler years, that yes! that toddler of yours will one day make you coffee! and bring you a mug in bed! And you will love him and kiss him and praise him for it.