Making room for the people I love &
the dreams God is still growing in me
Last week, I watched my two grandsons walk in front of me, holding hands and laughing about something only they could know.
It was one of those moments that probably looked ordinary to everyone else. They were just two little boys walking together, completely delighted by something I may not even remember a year from now. I watched them through a lens that comes with knowing how quickly childhood moves. Once upon a time, I raised two sons… I know.
My oldest son and his family were home from Florida, joining my younger son and his family who live nearby, so my grandsons could spend time together just playing. The fact that we didn’t have any grand plans made the week feel even more special. For a moment, all of my people were together. There were conversations and meals and little-boy laughter. I could actually give hugs instead of sending them through the phone. I wanted time to stop so I could hold on to it all.
A few days later, I put on an evening gown. I did my hair, put on makeup, and slid into heels so I could walk into a gala and receive an award for my book.
Somewhere between those two snapshots, I realized how much of my life right now lives in the space between them.
In one picture, two little boys are holding hands. In another, I am holding an award. I love what both pictures represent, but I’m wondering if that’s why this season of life feels so complicated.
There was a time when I assumed that getting older would make life simpler. I thought the big decisions would be behind me. The boys would be grown. I would have more control over my time. I imagined I would magically reach an age when I knew what mattered and how I wanted to spend my days.
Instead, I have been blessed with more people to care about and have discovered several creative rabbit trails to chase.
I want to be the kind of grandma I had, and like my mom was for my boys—loving, engaged, and fun. I want my grandchildren to remember my presence more than my presents. I want to sit on the floor and read the book again and again, and again as many times as they want. I want to watch the silly things they want to show me, and I want to know who they are becoming. I want my grown sons to see that my mom era did not end when they left my house; it simply transitioned into my Nana era.
Unexpectedly, I also have dreams… big ones.
Standing at that gala with an award in my hand reminded me how unlikely this whole writing life once seemed. It made me think about the books I still want to write, the women I want to encourage, the rooms I want to speak in, and the work I believe God may still be asking me to do.
Instead of making me feel as though I had arrived, the award made me wonder what might be beginning.
What now, God?
That question has been following me around for a while, but last week I felt its weight differently.
Because sometimes the answer to What now? seems to be, Go. Write the book. Build the ministry. Say yes to the opportunity. Walk into the room. Use what I have learned. Stop shrinking the dream simply because I have reached an age when the world assumes I should be winding down.
And sometimes the answer seems to be, Stay. Sit a little longer. Watch the boys laugh. Listen to my son tell the story. Leave the laptop closed. Sit and visit with my parents. Linger over dinner with Jeff. Remember to not hurry past a life I once prayed for because I am busy building the next thing.
I work with a lot of women in this season of in-between, and we all seem to struggle with this same tender tension. We finally have enough life behind us to understand how quickly it passes, while still having enough ahead of us to wonder what we might do with it.
I know I don’t want to miss out on family time because I’m chasing a dream. I’m also not ready to bury a dream because I am afraid pursuing it somehow makes me less devoted to the people I love.
I finally realized I’ve been struggling because I thought one side eventually had to win. I’m slowly learning God is teaching me to hold both.
There is something beautiful about the fact that the same woman can spend part of her week delighting in two little boys and another part standing beneath ballroom lights holding an award for work she once wondered if anyone would ever read.
Both moments ask something of me. They ask me to be present… to be where my feet are.
The little boys don’t need me thinking about the next book while I am playing with them.
The dream does not need me apologizing for wanting to pursue it when it is time to work.
Maybe faithfulness in this season has less to do with choosing one life over the other and more to do with recognizing which invitation God has placed in front of me today.
I know I am not the only woman standing here. Many of us reach midlife expecting our worlds to get smaller, only to discover new desires waking up inside us. We become grandmothers while becoming entrepreneurs. We care for aging parents while starting ministries. We celebrate grown children while wondering what God wants to grow in us. We finally have the experience, courage, and perspective we wished we had twenty years ago, and now we get to decide what to do with it.
How great is that?
Last week, I spent time with people I love enough to make leaving them difficult, and I had a dream meaningful enough to make pursuing it exciting.
Those are both gifts.
Maybe I don’t need to resolve the tension as quickly as I thought I did. I can let the photograph of those two little boys remind me to stay close to what matters. Maybe I can let the photograph of the woman holding the award remind me that God is still writing new chapters for her too.
I can be Nana.
I can be Mom.
I can be a wife and friend.
I can be a writer, speaker, coach, and woman with dreams that still make my heart beat a little faster.
And through it all, I can keep asking the question that has become so important to me:
What now, God?
I’m going to do my best to listen for the answer. I’m sure some days, He will lead me toward my work. I’m looking forward to other days when He leads me to slow down and spend time walking with the little hand reaching for mine. I hope I have the wisdom to recognize both invitations and the courage to be fully present when they come.
Be happy 🧡