Bittersweet

The days are getting shorter. Little shadows stretch out long across the grass and leaves. Its fall and there is a chill in the air, but the sun is warm on our skin as we play in the yard. I could be fixing dinner. Or folding the laundry that has been sitting in a basket for two days. I could be finishing a paper. Shopping. Cleaning. The list goes on and on. 

But we stay outside. This is my favorite time of year. And my kids are in what may be my favorite stage ever. We are soaking in every moment. 

There are bedtime secrets. Sword fights. Stories. Endless hide and seek. Naptime. Bathtime. Their cheeks are rosy, eyes bright. Their imaginations and feet run wildly from morning to night. There are moments, daily, that are so tender I have to choke back tears. I'm afraid I'll forget. Forget the silly things they say, how tiny their hands are, how it feels to be their mom. I used to journal daily, but those days have long been pushed aside, giving way to an array of other activities. There are pictures and videos, but I have yet to figure out how to capture the spontaneity, the laughter, the essence of childhood- especially without getting distracted by the internet at my fingertips. I want to stop the clock, and at the very same time cannot wait to see what is coming next. It is bittersweet to watch the days pass.

We are blessed beyond my wildest dreams, and yet the desire for another child is an unrelenting ache. I have so much it feels ungrateful to ask for more- and yet I beg. Our hearts are filled to the brim with love for our family, and yet there is room for a child who's face I dream of. This too is bittersweet. 

I'm not really a fan of chocolate. But I am a fan of The Office. When Mike and I were first married we saved our pennies and wedding money to buy as many seasons as we could. We have watched them over and over. My memories of the Office are all tied up in our first summer together, "sick" days on the couch, and hours of late night cuddling together rocking new babies. But I digress. In the words of Michael Scott "I guess this is what they call a bittersweet moment...That's what I hate bittersweet chocolate. I don't even... what's the point of that? Why not just sweet?".

But here is the thing. The years we spent praying, and waiting for our two tiny miracles have made me ever grateful. I'm not sure I would have treasured every moment this way had it not been so hard won. So while there is a small part of me that just wishes it could be all sweet, all fun, all the time- I don't think I'd be so happy. Isn't that a weird thought? And yet I keep thinking, there is joy in wanting. The wanting makes the having all worthwhile. The bitter is what makes the sweet. 

I guess in this warm sun and cool breeze, listening to the laughter of innocence and childhood, and contemplating life (as I can never quite manage to quiet my mind) I have but one conclusion. There is a God. He knows me, and He loves me. In the crunch of autumn leaves and the kiss of my daughter I cannot help but know He is there. I know it as surely as I know anything. My son's small hand in mine, singing as we walk, I am overwhelmed with love. Both the love received and love given. The words "For it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things." (2 Nephi 2:11) come to my mind. The promise that my family is mine forever cradles my heart with tender hope and empowering protection.

To have truth rooted in my heart brings me immeasurable peace. The craziness of the world, my own personal struggles, the business of life- all slide into perspective as I focus on my faith. It is so simple, my faith. But, everything treasured in my heart tonight are small and simple things. But these small things are my everything.