Old Shoes and Broken Toys

His toddler shoes next to his big boy shoes.

Isn't it weird how material items can bring forth such deep emotional stirring? As I filter through the stuffed closets and the overflowing dresser drawers in preparation to sell the house, I come across old memories in the form of tiny shoes and broken toys. And they're not specific memories, but memories of a little toddler whom I loved with all my heart, the little boy who blessed me first as a mother. And then to think that was just the beginning, and these material items which I sadly let go of eight years later, were part of each of my sons' lives, adding color to the faint visuals that creep forth into my mind.

His fourth birthday

His ninth birthda

Cherish, I must. Cherish each inch that keeps them below my chin, because soon, I will be looking up into their maturing faces wondering where the time has gone. Yet, I already do this-- wonder where the time has gone-- and I am still looking down, nurturing and rearing.

Thank you, Lord, for the constant reminders in old shoes and broken toys. For reminding me that these moments are precious, and my hearts will one day walk away to the great wide world. One day, I'll "de-clutter" a lifetime of giggles, bruised knees, wrestling matches, snuggle wuggles, and I pray that my heart can handle the flood.

As I type this, my nine year old complains to me that he has no socks left...and I quickly respond, "go get some of mine, they fit."...they grow so fast!