hope not in selective remembering.

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I have a confession to  make. Sometimes I feel awful wistful for when my children were smaller.

It seems silly. We’ve reached the physically easy stage. The heart stuff? It’s difficult and unsure. But everyone can walk and talk and fix their own breakfast. They all sleep through the night. They initiate funny and insightful conversations. They are becoming themselves and it is a joy to watch.

But. We’ve chosen public school and that means rushing out each morning. Everyone is old enough to do some sort of after school event and that means more rushing and being away from home, even though this fall we’ve chosen to only sign our oldest up for afternoon activities to make room for transition for everyone else.

I remember how when they were little the day was stretched before me wide and open. We were together. We did sweet things to pass the time and my schedule was simpler. Somehow I am wishing for that.

I sat down yesterday with my head and my heart. I took a good long look at all of my remembering. It was a sweet season. It was also hard. I was forgetting that. I took a look at this season. It is hard. It is also sweet. I asked the Lord to help me step out from under the burden of my rosy cheeked selective remembering. I asked Him to open my eyes to real and rock solid goodness right here and now.

Somehow we hope in the past don’t we? We build these versions of ourselves that we feel sure we used to be. We feel sure we were better, stronger, sweeter and more lovely. If we could just rebuild that. But we were still broken, messy and needy. We can’t go back. Today. Today there is something good flowing down from God, covered in His character. That goodness, that bestness, covers whatever the season is today.

I’m praying I’ll hope present today.

This post is part of a 31 day series.  You can find a link to each day right here. Find other 31 Dayers at The Nester’s.

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6 thoughts on “hope not in selective remembering.

  1. I do this. I didn’t realize it until I read your words. I guess that’s where the stories of the “good old days” come from. Those rosy colored glasses that hide all the warts need to come off so I can gaze at the now right in front of my eyes. Thank you, Ellen. This is definitely “eye-opening”.

  2. Yes! Thank you. Sometimes I long for the days when I was the only decision maker home during the day, being the final word on everything my little ones contemplated. It’s much more complicated when they are grown, and making all(most) of those decisions on their own. 19 and 15. Some days I really long for 5 and 1, not gonna lie. On the other hand, I am so-stinking proud of the persons they are becoming — good employees, good friends — GREAT children. I have to remember to put my hope in Christ alone, and all that God will provide because of his great love (even greater than mine) for my children. Thanks for the reminder!

  3. I needed to hear this today. As someone who writes a blog about memory-keeping, it’s all too easy to wear out the rose coloured glasses. When you go through tough times it’s far too easy to look back and say it was easier then, than to thank the Lord for the now, in all its messy glory Thank you! xo

  4. oh, how perfect his was for my heart right now. My daughter was married 10 months ago and I have a senior in high school this year. I find myself strolling through their memory books and having a hard time watching videos of the younger years. Thank you for this beautiful post today. Each season causes reflection, but I’m going to look at it through a new pair of eyes.

  5. Ellen, such sweet words to hear today. My kids are very young and I find myself putting hope into our future …. when we get more sleep, when we can do more as a family, etc. The future me looks a lot more put together than this frazzled version. Thank you for the reminder that we all need to hope in the present.

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