I am a mom.  And like all children, mine are growing up.  The problem is that every new season of their lives tends to hurl me (without even asking!) into a new season of my own.  

We have just passed into a new season whereby much of my daily life has become rather…open.  Sounds lovely.  Right.

I feel as though my husband and I have done a fair job of prioritizing the closeness of our relationship knowing that one day it will again be just he and I.  I thought I had done the same for myself.  Bugger.  Life itself swoops in to prove me wrong.

By nature of the outlook of our daily lives, we come to see ourselves through a lens of activity, relationships, labels.  “I am so and so’s mom.  I am so and so’s husband.  I work for so and so.  I teach at so and so or do books at thus and such.”  The identity that we adhere to becomes one that is fragile at best.  And when that identity takes a shift, well, you feel like me this week.

Today I destroyed my bedroom with half done rearranging.  I washed the outside of my kitchen windows.  The outside mind you, not the inside.  I refilled the hummingbird feeder.  I gave my dog his anxiety pills. I tried out my new dust vac by getting the dead bugs out of the window sills. I sealed my name in every random book I own. And I walked a few miles…from my kitchen to bedroom and many times back again.  Fulfilling.

Then, thanks be to God, I sat down and let Him remind me! I am a saint.  I am a child and an apple of His eye.  I am a treasure and a prize. I am warrior and an instrument. I am a work in progress and a gifted soul.  

And I’m an alien.

Live out your time as foreigners here in reverent fear.                I Peter 1:17

Seasons will always change this side of Heaven because I’m not home yet.  In the meantime, I’ll figure out the shifts and sways of a life that’s lived in constant motion, longing for the day when my identity is my sight.