All these years that I’ve been holding you…
The morning whisper before the routine of the day and it’s me and it’s him and it’s quiet before kids louden the house and it’s all these years and all that holding…
All these years.
A day can seem like a year and one year looks like the one before it and pretty soon all the years mix into one big day…and the messes and the money and the love and the fights and the hugs and the tears and the critters and the kids and the good and the not-always-good…they all blend up together in a sweet day-swirl of years that soften as they go, and pretty soon it’s been over twenty now that you’ve been holding each other in the dark and in the quiet.
How did we get to all these years when I thought we were still just starting?
How did the babies go on and grow and get to be a mini-version of the adults they’re turning into?
And how did we somehow get all grown up when we still have so much work to do on growing up?
All these years…
The trail we boondock bumps and jars and I hop off the four-wheeler while he works out the high-center and I walk with the fireweed and my hands touch the tall grass and there…right there…is where I’d have him put the house we’ll stay in for all the years that are yet to come.
It rolls like a meadow from back home, but it’s rugged like a spruce from this home, and my eyes water because I’d really love to buy this land and standing here in the fireweed, I’m standing at my to-be kitchen sink and looking out my to-be big window and right there my little horses are grazing in their to-be pasture while my children do what farm children do, they hunt and run and yell and create and care for critters here on their to-be homestead where they’ll bring their to-be children back to spend sunny days and wrap their dirty play-stained fingers around mine someday.
I look at the old cottonwood that reaches its emerald clumps of leaves high in years-long praise. How old does a tree have to be to reach that size?
All those years it stood there.
I want our house to be right here. I want to look out over that meadow every day and I want this cottonwood to be here with us. Right here is where I want our house to be.
He usually has to think things over for a good long time. He’s like that and it’s good.
But I ask him if we can’t pray on this one because sometimes God decides to move faster than we do and
God? Can this be one of those times because all these years are going by faster than I thought they would.
I want Him to move faster than smart husbands who mull long so we clasp hands and I try not to cry because sometimes God moves even slower than husbands who take time, and I’ve learned while that’s hard, it’s a good thing too.
But in the slowness when will we finally grow into who we are?
When do we finally have it together?
When do we finally look out over the meadow and feel like there’s peace?
When do we quit feeling like a wreck, like a mess, like there is so.much.more growing up to do?
When do we finally feel like we’re Home?
It’s hard to wait and God, can’t You just make it happen fast?
But then today I remember.
This time of year marks the time of year I said yes to Jesus.
Twelve now since I said yes, I’ll follow and I’ll grow up into the girl you had in mind when you made me. Yes. I will follow.
In all my waiting to finally be there…I forget that it’s not just twelve days.
I’m growing up.
It might be slow, but I’m closer to Home now than I was then and even when I’m high-centered, I’m still on the trail.
All these years…
I’ve been holding you…
When I reach my hands up in years-old praise and stand firm in this good soil He gives…
…or when I lay broken like the spruce that snapped in the massive wind storm years back and just hasn’t quite gathered the strength yet to stand…
…or when my heart is hardened like the burl, that huge one that forms around a mar in the design and grows bigger until it’s finally chopped off and used for good…
…or when I sit quiet and vibrant like the wildflowers that show up briefly and grace her surroundings with beauty…
…all these years He’s been holding me.
You…me…we’re getting there.
In the quiet…in the dark…in the good…in the bad…
All these kids and all these critters and all these fears and all these tears and all these flaws and all this growing and all these years…
We put an offer on the land today.
We might get it or we might not.
We might have to wait for another meadow or we might have to make one right where we are.
But today, this day of meadows and dreams and hopes and prayers I know this: all these years…
…He’s been holding.
He’s been holding.