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I’ve wrote down the words. I’ve meditated on them. I’ve read them in His word. And I’ve believed them. Words of truth and hope.

But every now and then, it sneaks in like a quick moving storm. The clouds start hovering over, the wind picks up, the sun blocked by thick clouds, darkness surrounding me and I find myself questioning. Is this all my purpose is? To rise each morning and do the same things I do every single day? Cleaning up infinite amounts of dishes, throwing toys in baskets, picking little pieces of trash off the ground, laundry, mediating fights, desperately grasping for control but it just always seems to be right out of my reach.

And then comes the lightning and thunder. The big booms. The sharp bolts. I compare. I compare to the houses surrounding me that seem to be filled with nothing but laughter and joy. Success and beauty. Not tears and frustrations. Not filled with “not good enoughs” and struggles.

Comparison is the thief of joy. This I know. But on those days when the storm is so fierce, it’s hard to turn away from. And before I know it the tornado comes. My thoughts are like a cyclone swirling around in my head filled with negativity & frustrations.

I have dreams. Just like you. Big ones. Ones that seem unreachable. I know God hears. I know he knows the desires of my heart. But I see nothing happen. A season of silence it seems. Countless prayers. Hoping. Waiting. Frustrated.

I don’t feel successful. I don’t feel important as I scrape leftover peanut butter and jelly off an orange elmo plate. As I place it in the dishwasher I reprimand myself for raising my voice earlier at my girls. I question and wonder if this is what I’m really supposed to be doing and if this is all there is to my life.  

I feel defeated as I climb into bed. I am glad the day is over. I lie my head down, my brown hair strewn across my pillow and close my eyes.

It’s a new day. I open my bible and this is the first thing I read,

“What is success? Most definitions include references to achieving goals and acquiring wealth, prestige, favor and power. “Successful” people enjoy the good life- being financially and emotionally secure, being surrounded by admirers, and enjoying the fruits of their labors. They are leaders, opinion makers, and trendsetters. Their example is emulated; their accomplishments are noticed. They know who they are and where they are going, and they stride confidently to meet their goals. By these standards Jeremiah was a miserable failure. For 40 years he served as God’s spokesman to Judah, but when Jeremiah spoke, nobody listened. And he certainly did not attain material success. In the eyes of the world, Jeremiah was not a success. But in God’s eyes, Jeremiah was one of the most successful people in all of history. Success, as measured by God, involves obedience and faithfulness.”

And there it is. I’m amazed at how God puts exactly what we need to hear in front of us at exactly the right time. On days like yesterday, when I long for and dream for success, to feel important and noticed, to my have my dreams answered….. God shows me truth. What I desire at times is the, “world’s definition of success”, not Jesus’. And if I’m chasing after success as the world sees it, I will never be satisfied, never feel true joy.

I know there are some of you out there who at times, feel the same way I feel. Maybe you’re a stay at home mom and feel unnoticed, unappreciated and undervalued. Or maybe you work at Walmart in the check out line and spew out “totals” all day to strangers and feel like you don’t really make a difference and wonder if this is where you are really supposed to be. Maybe, like me, you have big dreams that you feel like God isn’t blessing and you’re not sure if he ever will. Whoever you are, whatever you do, whatever hopes and dreams you have…. I hope you don’t define your success by the world’s definition. We all will have our days where the enemy will attack our mind and we will all have times where things just don’t seem to be going our way. We will have days where we get out of bed and just feel off or feel down… or both. But my hope is that you don’t stay there too long. That you fight those feelings, you fight those lies. That you dig into God’s word and read His truth.

My hope for you is that the storm will pass. The lightning and thunder fade away. The clouds roll out. That you quiet those negative thoughts. You stop comparing to those around you. And you look out your window at the sun shining. Because the sun always does come back out. I promise.

The last droplet of milk will fall on this chair. The last swaddle. The last song.

Hours upon hours were spent rocking, praying, crying, smiling and laughing.

The months have drifted by like the seasons; anxiously awaiting for the new things of the next but also sorry to see it all pass.

The sleepless nights, the aches and pains, the struggles of it all are a distant memory. And all I remember when I look in your bright, blue eyes are your tiny fingers and tiny toes, your sweet scent, your tiny body wrapped up in your blue blanket and the innocence of your being.

You take your first step and you smile and clap. I clap and smile with you and tears drop onto my face because I know something you don’t. This is the last first steps. There will be no other.

There will be no more first “mama” and “dada” uttered from a little mouth. No more bottles warmed up in the wee hours of the night. No more car seats carried to and fro. No more droplets of milk will fall.

You cling to me and I cling to you. The scent of baby lotion lingers on your skin and I vow to always remember the smell. I look down at your sweet face, chubby cheeks, long eyelashes, creamy skin and smile. What a gift you are.

You are the last, sweet baby.  The end of an era. An era full of firsts. Full of struggles, hardships, stress, pains, questions, worry, tears and breakdowns. But also full of a love I didn’t know existed. Of wisdom. Growth. A leadership pulled out of me that I didn’t know I had in me. Laughter. Joy. First steps, words, teeth, bubble baths, dance recitals, soccer games, math tests. So many firsts, too many to count.

Yes, the end of an era. And what a grand era it was.