Hold On

Both my children were born in April. I have never been pregnant in the summer, but on two separate summer seasons, I have carried my infant babies non-stop: In my arms, in a sling, in a carrier. I loved carrying my children. I loved the feelings of closeness, their bellies rising and falling as their arms and legs nestled into mine, their eyelids dropping lower and lower as they drifted off to sleep.

Neither of my children now particularly likes physical contact. Our interactions these days are limited to quick one-sided hugs or brief shoulder pats. I miss these times of physical closeness, but, more than anything, I miss how picking up and carrying around a tiny human could solve all problems.

I sometimes wish I could do something as simple now as picking up a child, walking around, and having all fears and worries melt away. I sometimes wish I could be as close as we once were. I sometimes wish I could freeze time.

But all I can do is hold on. Hold on to the connections we have built piece by piece, brick by brick. Hold on to the truism we all must find our own paths. Hold on to the promise that God loves us all and is holding on to each of us, too. Hold on.