Where Did the Time Go?

This week’s blog is arriving a week later than planned, and I want to tell you why before I tell you anything else.

Last week, my oldest son turned eighteen. The very next day, my father celebrated his own birthday. I had a choice to make about how I spent those days, and I made it without much debate. I chose to be outside enjoying the weekend with them instead of inside at my desk writing. I chose to be present for the celebrating instead of on my calendar meeting a deadline. I missed the day I normally post this blog, and if I am honest with you, I do not regret a single hour of it.

That is exactly what this week's blog turned out to be about.

I stood in my son's room the morning of his birthday while he was still asleep, and I looked around at a room that used to hold a twin bunk bed and a nightlight. Now there are sneakers lined up by the door and a stack of college brochures on the desk. I do not remember the exact day the bunk bed left this room. I do not remember the last time I carried him on my hip or the last time he needed me to tie his shoes. There was no final moment I marked on a calendar. It just happened, quietly, while I was busy loving him.

I remember bringing him home from the hospital and being terrified to hold him, certain I would break something so small and new. I remember his first day of kindergarten and the way he looked back at me before he walked through the door. Somewhere between that morning and this one, eighteen years slipped through my fingers like water I never even felt leave my hands.

Here is the revelation that met me in his doorway that morning, and the same one that met me again days later when I chose my family over my deadline. Time does not announce itself. It does not warn you before it takes the baby and leaves you a man. It does not warn you before summer break quietly comes to an end either. One moment you are there, in the thick of the sleepless nights and the sticky fingerprints on your favorite dress. The next moment you are here, standing in a quiet room, or sitting at a table with the people you love, wondering where all of it went and grateful you did not miss it for a checklist.

Pause with me for a moment, wherever you are, even if you are behind on something you meant to finish this week.

Think about the person you are raising, or loving, or walking through life beside. Think about how young they were the first time you loved them, and how much has already changed since then. Are you fully in this season with them, or are you moving so fast toward the next thing that you are missing the very moment you are standing in right now?

Scripture Reflection

Psalm 90:12 says, "Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom."

That verse never felt like math to me until that week. Numbering our days does not mean counting them out of fear. It means holding each one with open hands, aware that it is finite, so that we stop wasting it on distraction and start spending it on presence. Wisdom is not knowing that time will run out. Wisdom is living like you already know it.

Heart Truths

This is not only about a son turning eighteen. It is about learning to lean in, today, toward whoever you love most.
Here is what I am learning as I let this season settle over me:

• The little moments were never small.

• You do not get a warning before ordinary turns into memory.

• Presence is the only thing time cannot steal from you while it is still yours to give.

• Love does not need to be loud to be lasting. It just needs to be paid attention to while it is happening.

• Love does not end when a season does. It simply changes its posture, from holding on to letting go with open hands.

  Loving Well in Action

If today has stirred something in you the way it stirred something in me, here is how to carry it into your own home this week.

• Put your phone down during one ordinary moment today, whether that is dinner, a car ride, or a conversation in the hallway, and give your full attention to the person in front of you.

• Say the thing you are thinking but keep assuming you will say later. Tell them you are proud of them, or that you notice them, or that you are grateful for them, out loud and today.

• Take one photo or write one line in a journal about something small that happened this week, not the milestones, but the middle. The middle is what you will miss most later.

• Ask the people you love one honest question about how they are really doing, and then stay long enough in the conversation to actually hear the answer.

• Let go of one thing you have been controlling out of fear, and trust that love does not require you to hold on so tightly.

A LoveNote

Here is a love note that you can write to your children this week.

To my child, on the day you become an adult.

I know I cannot hold you the way I used to, and some days that grief sits right next to my pride, close enough that I cannot always tell which one I am feeling. I want you to know that every ordinary day we had, the quiet ones and the busy ones, the ones I did not think to write down, those were never in the way of my life. They were my life. Go be the person I raised you to be. I am so proud of who you have become, and I will love you through every season still to come.

Your LoveNote Challenge

This week, I want you to write a love note of your own.

It does not have to go to a husband. It might go to a child who is growing faster than you can keep up with, a friend who has walked a season with you, or even to yourself, for holding on through a season that asked more of you than you thought you had.

Let the note be honest. Let it be specific. Name a moment, not just a feeling, the way I named the twin bunk bed and the doorway that morning.

Finish With Intention

Do not let today pass you by the way last week almost did.

I could have spent those days finishing this post instead of being outside enjoying that weekend with them. I am glad I chose them. Look at the people in your house right now. Really look at them. This season will not ask twice. Hold on to the little moments. Hold on to the big ones too. Hold on to all of them, because one day soon, you will be standing in a quiet doorway of your own, wondering where the time went, and grateful that while it was here, you chose presence over the deadline.

You can go deeper with Love Him Well: The Daily Love Note Kit, made to help you love with intention every single day.

Find it here: www.dailylovenotekit.com