Do You Think of Me?

I consider myself to be a pretty intentional person and maybe that’s just a misconceived self reflection… but I often try my best. If I tell someone, we need to have you over for dinner or let’s hang out, I will often make the plans right away because I want to say things that I truly mean and strive for deeper relationships, not some fake pleasantries that exist in those shallow small talk. When someone crosses my mind as I’m doing something during the day, or if something reminds me of someone, I make it a habit to just shoot them a text and let them know I’m thinking of them. And I know that not all people invest in relationships the same way, so I try not to hold any expectations over people about how they respond or interact with me. I try to do everything with an attitude of humility, of Matthew 6:3 “But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing,” with a perspective of Colossians 3:23 “Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men.” I want to be a person who acts out of kindness, thoughtfulness, and compassion. And I strive to do these things without expecting much in return…

But I often go through small waves sometimes where I ask, “does anyone think of me?” 

Because life as a stay-at-home mom of two is lonely.

Because life as a stay-at-home mom of two during Covid is isolating.

Because I often spend my days talking to my sweet 3 year old about dinosaurs and redirecting my strong-willed 1 year old.

Because I spend all day and all night taking care of others and giving myself (what feels like endlessly), can’t someone just take a moment to care for me? Just shoot a text to say I’m thinking of you. Or send me snail mail recounting random stuff that’s happened in the day they sent it. 

God, am I just blind to how you’re moving? Am I wanting you to to act in such a specific way that I fail you see how you’ve been working? 

But of course, that must be the case.

Because if I slow down, and just work out these feelings of exhaustion, of sadness, of loneliness, I come back to the rational and known fact that…

This season of motherhood is a slow season for relationships. Because when you have two littles that take up all your time, energy and brain space, there’s not much room for too many relationships.

This season has brought some friends back into my life who show me that I’m not alone. Friends who I text or talk to maybe once/twice a month (if that) but who understand the feelings that I feel or the circumstances that I’m in. 

This season has reminded me how thankful I am to have a husband who loves our kids and wants to spend time with them. A husband who wants to be a part of every little big moment of their lives. A husband who puts me first and tries his best to support me even when it means denying himself of what he often needs or wants.

This season is a season of giving myself daily to my kids, but receiving so much joy in being their mom. In seeing them laugh and giggle at the things and places we explore. In seeing the light in their eyes when they find a new activity they enjoy. In seeing them grow to be such different personalities while watching their love for one another grow. In seeing how they just love being around me in this time, and knowing that there’ll come a day where they won’t want their embarrassing mom around.

So I’ll ride these small waves of loneliness and sadness. And ground myself in God’s love and provisions for this season. Because I know this season is just that, a season. And I know that my God is here, that He’s working. And that He will place the small encouragements I need in the places I least expect them. I just need to slow down in this fast paced season to see it all.