Milestones

Weeks go by. Always, they're busy. But often, also rather ordinary -- the routine playing-out of an existence where I can so easily be immune to the "otherworldness" of my days.

Not so right now. This week, I'm keenly aware of the passage of time. The need to LIVE each moment in "otherworldness" -- with a view toward the sacredness of it -- is penetratingly sharp to me.

Maybe that's because this week is so full of milestones for the Morgan family. I'll warn you; they're making me a little weepy.

Isabella Mae turned 6 on Friday. My baby. Six years old. I remember the day that happened to Maja; Annika celebrated her sixth birthday, and the realization that all of my dear friend's children were GROWING UP was etched in my memory forever. Now, I am that woman. All of my children are growing up. And the paradoxical reality is that even as the days DRAG ON sometimes, they are simultaneously speeding by. And there are only so many moments to love the children. Only so many moments to nurture and talk and cry and laugh. Only so many moments to point them to "the True Otherworldness."

Ah, Jesus. The one whom we seek to introduce to the world on this journey we make toward Ireland. Last night, we made our first "formal" support-raising presentation. We were with sweet friends -- church family who encouraged us not only to share our story and vision with them, but to treat them as guinea pigs for our formal presentation. It was too long. I fear we bored them. But we can now officially say that we're raising support to go to Ireland. I'm ecstatic. But also overwhelmed by the immensity of the venture.

Sandwiched between these events (Bella's birthday and the official start of support-raising), Bella started school. Not at home. Away. And she has a teacher. And her teacher's name is not "Mommy." Truly, there's a part of me that's sad about that. But I'm surprised (though I shouldn't be) and grateful at the grace God has given as we've taken this step. I didn't cry when I took her to school on Monday. I didn't even feel like crying. I prayed. I prayed for her. I prayed for her teacher (Mrs. Jennifer). And, praise God, I trusted that Valley View is the perfect place in God's perfect plan for Bella. An exciting milestone -- in her life and in our journey toward Ireland -- and one which, like the others this week, makes me keenly aware of the passage of time.

Did I tell you, Eli officially turns 13 tomorrow. Two teens in our home. (More of your Spirit, Lord. More of your Spirit.) I can understand now why tradition graduates 12-year-old males from a title of "master" to one of "mister." Eli has changed SO MUCH in the last year. He looks more like a man, sounds more like a man, and has strength more like a man. Again, keenly aware of the passage of time.

And keenly aware of my own inadequacy. I'm not sufficient to love, nurture, talk, cry and laugh enough. I'm not sufficient to point my children, or the world, to Jesus. I'm not sufficient to let go of life as I've known it. I'm not sufficient to parent two teens. Or AJ. Or Bella. Much less all four.

In the "Otherworldness" paradigm, though, in my place of weakness is exactly where I'm meant -- and privileged -- to be. Because that's where Jesus will be most real to me, and therefore most beautiful to my children and most captivating to the world.

"And He has said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.' Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may dwell in me." 2 Cor. 12:9