In four years time

Call me a little slow but as much as I've been looking forward to Leap Day, when Facebook popped up with memories from only four years ago I was a little confused. "You mean I've done nothing in this day in the past four years?" Of course I haven't! This "extra day" only comes around that often.
I had already determined a few weeks ago that Foster Academy would be closed for the day. Instead we would spend the day however we pleased, making memories along the way. Today was mostly spent being lazy, although we did cash in $25.60 worth of aluminum cans. Then it hit me - a time capsule! We could make a time capsule.
In four years, my two middle guys will both be seniors. In four years, my oldest will be 24 and probably out of the house. In four years, I'll only have four years left with my baby girl.
An empty paint can would do the trick. I told the kids I wanted them to all write letters to their future selves. "About what mom?" the question was asked. My reply then opened a discussion my Leap Day celebration hadn't prepared for - "How about your favorite color? Or what you're learning right now? What your favorite thing to do is? Or who you think will be president?" My youngest son's question then took me back, "Or how our hearts have been broken?"
Yes, I want them to write about that. I want them to process their heartbreak and hurt over missing their great gma. I want them to write about how anxious they are about the things that are effecting their lives. I want them to remember, in four years, the pain, the sorrow, the anxiety. I want them to remember because in four years they'll be completely different people who need to see that life isn't always what it was, nor will it always be that.
I thought back to four years ago before Gma B fell the first time or Aunt Suzie's cancer had metastasized or Gma P had pneumonia. I thought about a time before I had an adult child & was in the blows of his teenage years. A time before football or theater or ballet. I thought about a time when I thought life would always be like it was. Then I thought about today.

Dear 43 year old self,
The past few years have been very tough. And some days it seems that there's very little sun on the horizon. It's so easy to lose focus and give in to this sinking feeling that this is the way that things will always be. But if the past few years have taught me nothing else, they've taught me that life will not always be like this.
Undoubtedly right now, in 2016, we're in a season of sorrow that slowly lingers on. Soon there will be days of joy, days of smiles and laughter, days of celebration and new lives to welcome. The sorrow you felt for those long years in between were used to handcraft you into the person you are today, the one reading this letter. You've said, "I'll see you soon," to some of the most important people in your life and today that day you will see them again is one day closer.
The missed calls and texts will still sting. The birthdays will be hard and the holidays bittersweet. But before those tears filling your eyes escape and make their way to this paper, think back on God's faithfulness during that time. Think back on that peace you couldn't describe with words. Think back on those times when the darkness could be felt and remember that still small voice that shouted into it, "I AM still here. Right here with you. Focus on Me. Give me that yoke and take Mine. I'll give you rest. I'll mount you up on eagles wings so that you soar. I'll give you strength to run when you are weary. I'll carry you when you cannot walk so that you won't faint." That voice still calls to you today.
So 43 year old self, no matter what is going on in our life right now, be it good or bad, remember it won't always be like this. Those two young men set to walk across the stage in two months will still need their momma in three. That wonderful young man who would sacrifice his own happiness just to make his momma smile at 20 still loves you that much at 24, even if he doesn't say it as much anymore. That precious little Piggy is nearing the time when she'll assert her independence from you - don't take it personally. She'll be your best friend one day. That man you married loves you enough to have put up with you for 25 years. Thank him. Love him, even when he can't love himself. Stop what you're doing today & have dinner with your parents, they won't be here forever.
And thank God for those sorrowful times because they made us understand that life won't always be what it is today. Remember He has been so faithful through it all. He's been right here with us this whole time, sometimes holding our hand, sometimes carrying us but always giving us strength for what He's told us to do.

I went and got your mail today but you weren't home

Compounding life is so very different. I can remember growing up all of the Saturdays & Sundays when we would load the car up for the day & drive the 10 minutes to my grandparents' houses. It would be an all day affair. We would come home completely exhausted but thoroughly happy. Life for my own children has been very different.
This small 4 acres of land has been their home since before they were born. My gma moved into her house on the homestead 13 years ago. The younger kids have no recollection of the old 40 acre homestead that my cousins & I, like our parents & aunts & uncle before us, roamed until the car horn sounded the "It's time to go".
Compounding is different than spending all day once a week together, it is living life together. "You need toilet paper? Ok, be right there." "But I really thought I had two more eggs..." Going to get gma's mail has been a staple since her fall two years ago. Most days she'd call & ask for one of the kids then they'd slip their shoes on & head out the back gate. Momma has been getting gma's mail lately. 
Yesterday my parents finally made a break for it though. They packed up the car & drove out to meet the sun on the horizon. Momma retired eight months ago & the furthest they'd been together was the grocery store yet even that trip together had been quite rare.
I rushed through my errands yesterday morning desperately trying to return before they drove off but my phone rang just as I turned to head out of town. "We're pulling out of the driveway now," came daddy's voice over the airwaves. Sure I was disappointed but I had been the one pushing them to go. I couldn't ask them to wait now just so that I could tell them goodbye.
Our conversation wrapped up after a few more instructions from momma and my eyes filled with tears as I fumbled for the "end call" button. The realization that I was now the one responsible for life in our little compound was simply overwhelming. Never before had I been the only adult female, let alone the oldest one. I was anxious. I was scared. I was lonely and perhaps the saddest I'd been in a while. What I wouldn't have given to have just heard gma's voice, "You can do this. We've prepared you. And, pssst, you're not really alone."
The fact that my aunt lives three streets away & we had made plans with her for today helped tremendously. The reply to my SOS prayer request to my friend gave me great comfort too. Then there would be a text with an attached recording.
I was so very excited at the idea of hearing my cousin's two baby boys that I hit the play button before I could fully prepare myself. "Laura, it's Mawmaw. I just wanted to call & tell you that you're special and I love you very much."
It was the first time I had heard that voice since October 17. I hadn't mustered the courage to listen to my own voicemails yet. Although she clearly said my cousin's name, she was speaking to me too.
Momma & I have been talking lately about people that need a "phone call from God". A phone call to calm them & reassure them that He's still in control. That He loves them & sees exactly right where they are. I didn't know that I, myself, needed a phone call but apparently He did. And though I didn't hear His voice on the other end of that recording, I heard the voice of one who constantly pointed me back to Him. The most amazing woman who always told each of her children, grandchildren & great-grandchildren how special we were, how much she adored each of us & how much her love for us paled in comparison to His. That recording I didn't have time to prepare for would be the medicine my soul needed to push through this weekend.
After we got home from my aunt's today, I walked over to get momma & daddy's mail then gma's since momma wasn't home. I could hear the TV in the livingroom playing one of those sappy AMC movies we always watched together. I unlocked the door with my bundle of junk mail & let myself in. I sauntered over to the kitchen table & placed this pile next to the other ones. I bent down & took a drink straight from the kitchen faucet, like I always had, then checked on the Christmas cactus. I walked to her bedroom door & choked back tears as I peered into the emptiness.
I thought about sitting on the bed for a few minutes but my kids were at home alone. I turned & walked to the backdoor. I quietly muttered, "I went & got your mail Mawmaw. But I guess you're not home here."
As I stepped out on the back porch & turned the key, I glanced across the field to momma & daddy's back door with tears rolling down my face. Standing there, all alone, those words resonated in my soul, only from a different voice - "Tiffany, I just wanted to call you & tell you how very special are you. I love you very much. Never forget who you are. You, my precious daughter, are a child of the King. And you're never alone."