18 Summers.

Years ago I was at a backyard party of a neighbors with Jon and at the time our two small girls. Georgia was maybe 9 months, and Brooklyn was a little over 3. I was talking to an older gentlemen as we sat on the back porch, watching my two girls toddle around in the grass. He was talking about his kids, and times gone by, paused, and then said:

”18 summers…”

He let his statement hang in the air. 18 summers. 18 hot, fun, water-filled summers where school is out, our children are home, there is more time for play, and the majority of our time is in each other’s company. He didn’t explain his statement. He didn’t need to. 18 is all we have. What a gift to count each one a blessing.

As a working mom, I’ve always struggled to balance my work/home schedule. There are weeks where I feel my family is being cheated, and weeks where I feel work is. I love preaching and teaching, leading and building our church. I love writing books and devotionals and leading staff time and team nights. I love our small and vibrant church.

But being a mother. That is my first and most primary call, and over the years I’ve gotten more at ease with letting work take (very kindly) a backseat, as I focus on the 3 faces that only have me, and will always have me. My two beautiful girls, and my son. I am their only mama, and they are my pride and joy.

Over the years Jon and I have brought our kids to every ministry opportunity. “We do it together” we say. We unapologetically run our NEXT class with screaming kids next door. Our three are at every lead team meeting, every Sunday. They come to work with me. When we flipped a house this year they helped clean it out. When we have meetings often times they are there.

But for summer.

Just for two months.

For summer…

I key in instead on the summer nights. The sunsets as they ride bikes and scooters. I focus in on their words more and their thoughts. We stay up later, eat more chocolate, read more books together, go for more walks, read the Bible more together. We go to Lake Powell and we go fishing. We head to the lake more. We cook more. We tell made-up-stories around our propane fire. We relish. Because 18 summers isn’t a lot, and frankly, we’ve already had 9 with our oldest - I’m painfully aware we are half way through our summers with her.

So.

Emails can wait, the big decisions can wait. The meetings can wait. Other people can wait. I only get 18. I only have three. And they only have one mama… me. <3