It is early. My alarm clock rings, the sound of little girl cries echoing down the hallway. I squint into the early morning light, pull the covers tightly around me, and sigh deeply. The heavy weight of exhaustion, one too many late nights spent working, falls heavily on my body, pinning me to the bed, and the only thing I want to do is roll over and fall back to sleep. The cries ring out again, this time a little louder. Sadness overcomes me as I stumble out of bed. I don't want to feel this way, I think to myself. I want to feel rested, happy to get up and start my day with that sweet little toddler. I think on this as I walk to her room. I picture my life as a scale, my family and myself on one side, my career, goals, and dreams on the other. I cringe, envisioning the weight that each side carries. If all of my focus and energy is on my business, what happens to the rest?

 

 

I grab my camera as I walk to her room, put a smile on my face, pretend that I am not tired. She is there in her crib, blanket and stuffed animals in little arms, ready to be picked up and loved. I sing her a good morning song, scoop her up and carry her to the couch for cartoons and apple juice. I make little pancakes for little hands to eat...just her size, with just enough butter and syrup. Morning rituals...the ordinary, everyday routine. Or is it ordinary? I think about this as I clear the breakfast dishes, wipe the sticky syrup from tiny fingers, clean the counters. Isn't the ordinary , the everyday...well, EVERYTHING??? All these moments stacking up into a life...writing the story of who we are. I wonder what she will remember of these days? Will she remember a mother glued to a computer screen, constantly working? I flinch. Tears sting the back of my eyelids, salt to wound. We sit on the floor and play, lay together and snuggle on the couch. I watch her...study her little features...her furrowed brow as she studies a Max and Ruby book; her tangled mess of curls splayed against the back of the couch; a tiny button nose, a scrunchy-faced smile. All these moments, all this life already lived. Have I done it right? I am unsure.

 

Evening comes. I watch the sun set through the trees. Another day, come and gone. I think about success....have been thinking about it for days now, and how it can have so many different definitions. Do I want it? Yes, I want to be successful, but there are other things I want more in this life. I am madly, passionately in love with photography, but you might question that if you heard my recent prayers. You see, I asked God to take photography away from me if it was not what He wanted for me. A scary, brave, gut-wrenching prayer but a cry to God to show me what He wants for my life. My business has boomed bigger than ever before since that prayer. But God has given me big choices to make. I can say "yes" to having clients every day of the week, say "yes" to every opportunity that arises, but if I say "no" to time with my children, I have failed. If I say "yes" to more appointments and more clients, but say "no" to going to church or spending time in God's Word, then I am a failure. No amount of success in business will cover the sins of neglecting the family God has given me or a relationship with Him. The impact of choices weigh heavy on a life. All of my "yes-es", all of my "no's"...they are my values reflected in a single syllable. What we say "yes" to BECOMES our life. I decide on a personal definition of success: being able to run my business on a schedule that would allow me to give more "yes-es" to my family and to God. Less focus on selfish goals, and more time focused on raising little souls. A prayerful seeking of God's direction for my business and my life. Peace fills my heart. It's all about balance, priorities.

 

Night falls. I tuck her in, kiss her goodnight. I lay in bed but can't fall asleep. I think about that little girl down the hall, and how much she needs me. All of me...a fully present mother. I go to her, kneel beside her bed and pray. "God, if you let anything I desire slip through my fingers, don't let it be this. Please, not this. Not the love and happiness of my innocent children. Not their sweet souls that you have entrusted me to care for. Let it be me, Lord. If I lose anything in this life, let it be of my own selfish desires."

 

I feel it in my bones as I sit before her bed, kneeling at the throne-room of God. My greatest, God-given desire is to be the mother He created me to be. I won't take this one life I've been given for granted. I won't waste a childhood glued to a computer screen, or chasing meaningless things. I will reach my personal goals and dreams a little at a time, while building a beautiful life for my family.

 

I gather her warm, sleeping body in my arms and carry her to my bed. I snuggle her close, smile as I watch her dream. I touch the soft fleece of her favorite nightgown...the one with the pink and brown ponies; I bury my face in her messy curls. I breathe in the smell of her shampoo, sweet like honey, and trace fingertips across rosebud lips. Beauty in the mundane. Extraordinary in the ordinary. An entire life built in these small moments. The seconds ticking by, building into minutes, then hours, days, years, a lifetime. What I do with this time is a choice...Lord, please give me the wisdom to always make the right one.

 

 

Big hugs,

Julie