Yesterday my oldest child became an adult. In many ways, I still think of myself as this age. So how did he catch up? Or, how did I get this old?
I’ve loved the last eighteen years. Being a mom is a huge blessing. It’s not as easy as the baby commercials make it look. In fact, it’s brutally hard. It will break you heart, drop you to your knees, and make you like a two-day old kitten placed in the middle of the freeway. Completely vulnerable.
Parenting has also stripped away many of the trait that kept me from knowing God. At eighteen I was fully selfish. I wanted my way, and I really didn’t give much thought to how that effected others. My world revolved around my needs and wants.
Funny, I wasn’t really happy then. In fact, I wasn’t happy at all until I was blessed with others to serve. My eighteen year-old self would gag at that thought, but the forty year-old only laughs.
That eighteen year old didn’t know ANYTHING!
What a blessing to see that my son is nothing like I was.
The picture below is from yesterday’s party. This is just a fraction of the “family” God has blessed me with. How awesome is that?
Forty’s not so bad.