Much of last summer and fall felt like a scene from a movie in which the pivotal moments ensued in slow-motion. I remember the first few minutes after KiSA told me he'd been laid off, and driving away from our house for the final time. I think of saying goodbye to friends, or the hours of passing through thick woods hugging both sides of the interstate, holding onto the steering wheel and my faith. I remember hearing my heart beat.
Other times, time flew by with a tornado-like ferocity that seemed it could steal my breath. I watched as my children sprang up taller than seemed possible, the light of understanding brightening their eyes more each day. I listened as words tumble out of their mouth, and wondered that they could learn to speak overnight. I watched my belly swell like a blossom under a time-lapse camera, keeping time with weekly updates coming in to my email.
And the rest of life happened with an unwavering, unstoppable steadiness. Whether a new hardship or victory came our way each day, the number of hours stayed the same. While some mothers resent what they call the monotony of domestic life, I've been thankful for it. For even when circumstances related to a house, or a car, or a medical bill careened out of my control, bath time still happened at 7:00 p.m. Snack was at 3:00. And so forth. The dishes and laundry and toilet training and feeding all gave me something predictable, something routine, something that didn't change when seemingly everything else did.
We're entering into a season of hopes being fulfilled now. Whereas faith is believing in the unseen, we are now watching promises take shape before our eyes. Through each moment, fast or slow, routine or life-changing, I've been thankful for one thing. God doesn't change. He doesn't move. He is everywhere, even with me. Time means nothing to Him. I am so, so thankful for His steadying Hand each step along the way.
