I push my babies on the swings in our backyard almost every night. Over the last few months, we have spent hours on those swings. I push, and they giggle and chat and sing and kick their little feet pretending to run through the air. I wouldn’t trade the time that we have spent in that spot for anything in the world.
Sometimes I wonder what moments will become memories for them. What series of minutes… seconds… they will recall one day when they are grown and gone. What special things they will tell their own children about their time in this home…on those swings… in our backyard… I wonder what memories they will have of me.
Last night, we noticed something interesting when we went out to our favorite spot. Right in the center just behind their swings was a place on the ground where the grass had been worn thin. The hours of standing behind them and pushing them back and forth had left an in imprint in the grass.
You could clearly see the place where mommy had been.
And I know that it is a gift to see this place where a memory has been made… because they won’t always be able to see with their eyes the places that mommy has been.
No, they won’t be able to see the hours that I spent holding them when they were sick, but mommy was there.
There will be no permanent markings next to the bathtub where I have spent hours getting splashed and soaked…
If they could only see the path that I have worn from my bedroom to theirs as I stumbled to check on them in the night and ran to them when they woke-up crying my name…
There will not be any physical markings from the hours I will spend praying for them and for their future careers, spouses, children…
And their foreheads won’t show where I kissed them after they fell asleep…
There are no indentations in the carpet around the couch from all the games of chase…
And there are no worn spots on the front porch where we have sat and enjoyed all of our popsicles…
But. Even though there will not be a place just behind them where they can see that I have been with them through it all… with every moment…. With every string of minutes turned memories… I am wearing a familiar place onto their hearts that they will be able to point to and say, “That’s where my momma was.”
Tonight, after dinner, my kids hopped down from the table and said, “Can you push us on the swings, mommy?” I agreed, and out we went. I helped my daughter onto her swing and helped my son up onto his. I stepped back and looked down at my feet perfectly positioned in the comfortable grooves that I had worn in the grass… and my heavenly Father gently whispered to me, “The same is true of me.”
What a beautiful truth.
Yes, there are places in our lives where we can say, “See? This is where God showed up. This is where we sang and talked and laughed and where He pushed me a little higher.” And we celebrate the assurance we have of His presence. But even in the places where He is not as visible… where we cannot see evidence of His footprints as clearly… we can be confident that He has been with us. We can sense the familiar workings in our hearts and know that even in the unseen moments…
My Heavenly Father was there too.
