Seasons

I've been pensive the last few days, really savoring and trying to hold in my hand the concept that babies grow, people die, marriages end, and the present turns into ancient history. It just slips away. I don't know why my son turning three has been such a dramatic event for me, it just has.

The first year of a first child's life is a training ground like no other. Parenting boot camp, full of nerves and panic, and just when you think you have a grasp on your new role, your itty bitty baby is a walking, talking toddler. The second year went by even quicker than the first. And as I watch my son follow directions, make wise choices (even at his age!), learn new things, and exercise his own will, I'm reminded of just how fleeting and short life is. Even the good stuff. Especially the good stuff.

I'm learning a sad lesson; I can't capture time. 

Ecclesiastes 5: 11

As you do not know the path of the wind,
    or how the body is formed in a mother’s womb,
so you cannot understand the work of God,
    the Maker of all things.

Stay little, sweet ones.