My children are growing up – this week alone two of them have birthdays – my youngest two are now 11 and 12. Young children, I do not have, anymore.

I find I spend much of my time now envisioning their futures; futures coming sooner than I am prepared for; futures I am frantically trying to prepare them for; futures undetermined and intangible yet weighty and heavy nonetheless.

Meanwhile, I fight to hold the course –to hold to what is still before me, to these days where I am still much needed, much required. They are not easy days – they strain my brain, my heart, my capacity to turn nuanced human kindnesses, human consideration, and human relationships into tangible lessons for a lifetime.

Because, I envision so much for them – I see what they have yet to look for, I see because I have “the before” behind me, Therefore I look for them, I watch; I catch them out on their shortsightedness. I endure the hang dog faces, the angry eyes, and the intolerant hunch of shoulders. I hold to my place, bare-knuckled and oft-times ill prepared to keep this vessel on an even keel. Because I envision so much for them.

Truth is – I envision more for them than myself. I am not without my hopes and dreams but I struggle to commit as much passion into my own future as I am willing to lay down for theirs. I think about my future – I prepare for it even, taking steps to find the Krina shaped space out in the world beyond this mom-shaped mothering space I live in. I fan my little embers. But if I could place my future desires on a scale and weigh them against my desires for the futures of my children … it would be an embarrassing comparison. My heart gets all large and uncomfortable when I think about all the things I want, desire, envision for my kids – I want so deeply for them it is an ever expansive balloon filling the whole of everything. But my own wishes are like warm stones in my hand. I have no trouble with this – I don’t resent it, I recognize it. I recognize that this is what keeps me strong in the face of adolescence and teen trials – this is what keeps me going, the way sweet hugs and kisses and handholding once did when my children required my constant physical attention and care.

I envision a future when those stones may burn; I envision a time when God calls me, sets me on fire anew. Time being – I shall continue to burn for them, these shortsighted, myopic children who are growing wings and fumbling about outside the nest.

The #wholemama word this week is:  Envision  Follow me over to Overflow to read more stories from lovely  #wholemama storytellers.

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