Back to Reality

For some strange reason, nobody has been showing up at my front door at 5:30pm with a hot meal this week. I can't imagine why not! My house is still pretty chaotic and will be for the next year or 10, yet no one sees the need to provide sustenance for my kids anymore. Strange.

Seriously, we were so blessed to have at least two weeks' worth of meals. Having a baby is pretty easy when there are no grocery store trips or meal preparations involved. However, reality has set in. It's back to the normal pace of life, which is a good thing. It's just a little challenging with a baby who is of the opinion that life pretty much needs to stop when he's awake so Mama (or anyone else available) can hold, bounce, and walk him. What can I say? He's a Bond baby. But, along with fussiness, being a Bond baby means being completely adorable and sweet (okay, in my opinion anyway), so I guess we'll keep Sam like we did all the others.

His first month of life (I cannot BELIEVE it's been a month already!) has been filled with new experiences. Of course, he will not remember or even comprehend any of them, but he's had them nonetheless. He experienced his first wedding reception (slept through it all), his first trip to the Pumpkin Patch (when I find all the time I've lost, I'll post pics), the ups and downs of Alabama football, and his first, second, and third trips to Target. He has grown so much and is getting little fat rolls already. In moments like the one I'm having now, when Sam is sleeping peacefully across the room from me and all the other kids are in bed as well, I am convinced I want him to stay a fuzzy, bunched up, sleepy-eyed newborn forever. There are other moments when I feel a little differently, but I'm not really in any hurry for him to grow up, because I know he will, and all too quickly.

One other "first" Sam experienced this month was his first funeral. There is something rather surreal about witnessing a life begin and a life (or two, actually) end all within two weeks. It will make you think about things a little differently. I was still in my baby fog when I got the shocking news that a friend/bunco buddy and her husband had been killed in a motorcycle accident. No matter how many times I experience either the birth or death of others, they both seem so hard to really take in. The miracle of life is think that a person came from two tiny parts of two people, was formed and grew inside of me, and then emerged to be held in my arms mere moments after he was inside my body. Crazy and amazing stuff. And then to think that two people, so vibrant, fun, and full of life can just be gone. We can't talk to them or spend time with them. She won't show up at bunco or Bible study ever again. Children are left parentless and parents are left without their children. Gone.

We go through our everyday lives without really acknowledging the sudden way that our lives began and will one day end. It seems impossible to maintain that sense of urgency and purpose that a constant awareness of those two events would bring. Our days run together in a seemingly endless cycle of laundry and snotty noses and phone conversations and trips to Publix. But it's not endless. One day, all that will be over and done with and all that will remain is what we've done for the kingdom of God. I'm so happy to say that my friend and her husband were followers of Christ and left a wonderful legacy of His love displayed in their lives. We mourn with hope. However, I cannot help but wonder what will be left of my life when I enter eternity. Not much, I fear.

So, as my days are filled with feedings and poopy diapers, sweet snuggles and goodnight kisses, fixing hair and helping with homework, cooking dinner and washing dishes, brief conversations with a busy husband and sleepy days after sleepless nights, I try to stay focused on what matters. The things that will be left after the fire of eternity burns away the fluff of life. I fail most of the time, but I strive to spend time on what matters. Oh, what a difficult task for me. But God gives us those reminders from time to time, when our repetitious days on earth are interjected with glimpses of eternity and we remember, if only for a moment, that this life we lead is just a blip on the radar of our existence. And we try to find and hold onto what really matters.

Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom. Psalm 90:12

Our days on earth are like grass; like wildflowers, we bloom and die. The wind blows, and we are gone—as though we had never been here. But the love of the Lord remains forever with those who fear him. His salvation extends to the children’s children of those who are faithful to his covenant, of those who obey his commandments! Psalm 103:15-18


  1. Excellent post Amy. Thanks for those reminders and for making me teary eyed very early on a Thursday morning!


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