As I write this, my 400th post at mollymadonna.com, I am reminded of how most things in life that matter take time. Writing matters to me, and documenting thoughts for my children matters to me, but I certainly couldn’t push through a history of blog posts in one evening. 400 posts have taken me the better part of three years to write. Clearly, I haven’t been diligent to blog every single day, or to just hop on the blog whenever a thought crossed my mind. There are a lot of unexpressed ideas in and amongst 400 entries–things I’ve wanted to say and didn’t, things I’ve wanted to say and couldn’t, things I haven’t wanted to say at all, but that matter somewhere in my heart.
All of this time has passed, and for it, there are tangible things to show: three pregnancies, the birth of our first munchkin, this season of being full with child now. Changes in our home, adjustments in our jobs, new friends, deepened relationships, joy, loss, sorrow, healing, growth at the ready. Some of it is written here, and some is tucked away for another day. Regardless, I hope that those who have journeyed with me here have felt included, welcomed, free to be authentic, relieved sometimes at the normalcy of my humble little life and family. Sharing a part of myself is both a blessing and a joy.
So much of what I have always wanted has been a process of baby steps and patience and slow but tangible progress. Carrying babies, certainly. Obtaining my doula certification. The ever-changing shape of our home and how we use it to the fullest in different seasons. Building deep and lifelong friendships. Learning various skills. Honing my ability to be grace-filled and gracious, slow to anger, rich in love. All of the most important things in life (for me) have taken time. Good, valuable, stretched out time. There’s no use rushing what is good. And I’ve learned over the years that if it’s meant to be it will be, and if it’s not, I can either force it and arrive at a result I don’t love, or mourn it for a while and let it go. The latter seems to be less painful in the long run. I’m still practicing.
I don’t know if I would have guessed a decade ago that this life would be my life. In fact, I suppose I’m certain I had no idea. And there’s been so much beauty and surprise and redemption in it that I can’t possibly look back and question whether God has had his hand on me the whole time, quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) guiding my steps. I haven’t always chosen the easy road, but the hard roads have taught me invaluable lessons I go back to again and again. Growing in Christ and marriage and motherhood and friendship have all seasoned me in ways I can’t regret. I know that God is doing a work in me, and my hands are open and facing upward, longing to be led by the One who knows me best and knows what’s best for me.
I still have a lot to learn.
But I’m thankful. Thankful that here, there is a record of so much of the growth and shaping I’ve encountered in the past three years–the past 400 posts. And I’m thankful that this space is still and open book, with plenty more room for page after page of (hopefully) valuable reflection, even if I’m the only one thumbing back through chapters here after a time.
Another 47 posts from now, I’ll be writing about our newest addition and all of the joy that he or she is bringing, so fresh in our lives, or I’ll be doing my best to practice patience as we await his or her arrival. Either way, more growth, more change, more of this life, here for the savoring. Certainly, it’s all worth celebrating, even if the party is here on the page and I’m the only one marveling at the blessing of it all. If you’re here, consider this your cordial invitation to join me!
love from this two dimensional, communal space. and my heart.