I went into my son’s room today and I was jealous. I was jealous that it is his room. Some days I feel as though nothing is mine: not my time, my money, my body, or my things. When I am home my time is consumed by doing for others. When I leave the house I am usually on my way to take one of my lovely children to an activity like swim, basketball, volleyball, or an appointment or to get groceries. I have one daughter who asks for a bite of anything I am eating-before she even knows what it is. I have another daughter who, as she gets older, is deciding that she likes my clothes and shoes better than hers, and wants to try all of my toiletries (though I get her her own). With a nursing baby and a husband, sometimes my body doesn’t feel like my own. It’s community property.
I have a stack of books I’d like to read but never seem to have the time to, a list of sewing projects that I’ll probably never get to, and a variety of activities in which I would like to participate. Maybe someday-but not today.
Would I change any of it? Some days I might think I’d like to. However, the real answer lies in what I’m doing right now. I keep stopping as I write to watch my curly-headed 10 month old explore the room and get into anything that isn’t one of his toys. He is gurgling and I am shaking my head and sighing. But behind that sigh is a smile, and my heart fills with joy. When my older kids return home tonight from youth group the first thing they will do is say “hi” and tell me about their evening. My younger daughter will tell me how well she did at swim class with satisfaction and excitement in her eyes (my mother-in-law graciously took her tonight because I am battling allergies and wasn’t up to it). They will be glad I am here when they get home; and so am I. If I have to share everything I own and everything I am with a group of people, I sure am glad it’s this group of people.