It’s funny how much has changed since I wrote these words a year ago. Yet, in many ways, so very much is the same. At the time, life was hectic from an Unexpected new role as a temporary homeschooling momma. Today, life is hectic due to an unexpected new role filming an HGTV television show (I mean, I still laugh when I type those words. Life is wild).

Last year, I was Lamenting the lack of white space in my days. This year, I’m lamenting the lack of white space in my days. Last year, I yearned for the lost art of lingering. This year, I yearn for the same.

These exact words from last year ring entirely true today: “the balls I am attempting to precariously balance in the air are dropping left and right. Rapidly. I am behind on returning phone calls, paying bills, responding to emails…

I’ve had a cathartic ugly cry and am accepting my limitations.

I don’t like feeling inept.

Yet, I’m leaning into the crazy idea Jesus presented that in my weakness, His strength is magnified. I am trusting that, somehow, He will use my inability, my unpreparedness, my lack for His glory.”

Our schedule at the moment is honestly just crazy. Dave and I are both trying so hard to manage this craziness while maintaining intentionality with our kiddos. Any sliver of white space is set aside for much needed cuddles or movie nights or afternoon adventures.

I’m continuing to focus on my intention for my babies. The Childhood I want for them continues to be within reach, it has to be fought for, with time carved out for.

Because, for me, the answer to this question remains most assuredly of the utmost importance…

If I imagine my grown children in twenty years, sitting around a table with their friends, how do I want them to describe their childhood?

I know I want them to have warm, fond memories of long days outside. I want them to remember dirt under their fingernails and laughter on their lips. I want them to remember the sensation of sunshine on their faces. I want them to remember the affection and responsibility they gleaned from caring for animals. I want them to remember a home with vases full of handpicked wildflowers on every surface and refrigerator doors covered in homemade Picasso’s. I want them to remember a childhood framed with sweet, content moments of lingering.

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