For everything there is a season...

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.”

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

The husband recently bought a digital frame to put in our family room. For several weeks, he spent hours uploading photos onto it, dating back as far as a decade ago. When the digital frame first became popular, I was not at all interested in using it to showcase our family pictures. I found the tool impersonal, cold, nothing like the framed pictures that I have on our room walls or the gallery displayed along our staircase. The traditional way of keeping our pictures was more intimate; when placed alongside each other in a particular configuration, they could even tell a story.

Lee put the digital frame next to our television, so in the evenings, when we’re watching something, I could see the pictures flashing before me, one after the other. I guess I never have the time to pick up an album now, or go through our hard drive to see the thousands of pictures we’ve accumulated, so I didn’t expect that I would feel nostalgic upon seeing the many pictures that Lee had uploaded.

In particular, I forgot how many things Lee and I did together before the kids were around. Back to our dating days, even the three years before Nathaniel and Jenuine became part of our family—we had traveled to Mexico, Hong Kong, Italy and France (honeymoon), gone to baseball games, skiing, musicals, played on the church softball team together, taken road trips...

It wasn’t that I had forgotten that we had done these things, but that I had forgotten what we were like before the kids came into the picture. Even though it has only been a little over two years, I suddenly began to long for the intimacy that we once had. During meals now, or even sitting amidst the pews during church service, we’ve got at least one kid between us. I wondered—how long would it be before we could do all that stuff again—he and I?

Granted, I am thankful for where I am now. I know that my friends who do not have children look at us and are grateful that they still have the freedom that they do. I understand—I was like that too. But now—I am taking joy in the present—in my children growing up, in watching my husband coming home from work and relishing in the smiles and adorable faces of his children—and God willing, in the future that we are building with our new family dynamic.

I am blessed to have grown up in a loving family. My mom did everything she could to keep us close. She was the glue in our family. She planned all the family trips during summers and Christmases. I even remember what it was like hanging out with my sister and brother. It was almost like it didn’t matter where we were—we three siblings would have fun even being stuck in the hotel room, at night, with our junk food, board games—talking nonsense into the camcorder as we made short videos of our time away from home.

God willing—when Nathaniel and Jenuine are older—I can’t wait until the family that Lee and I are raising can do the same things, nurturing the same intimacy that I was so familiar with growing up as a child.

And in time, I am sure that Lee and I will be able to know what it’s like to be with each other again—without the crazy demands of raising two children.

The passage in Ecclesiastes offers great wisdom and comfort. For everything there is, indeed, a season, and for every season, I must always remember to be thankful.