Maple Ridge Barndo

My husband and I have reached the age where we fully understand that lifetimes are divided into distinct seasons.

In our newlywed season, Tim was in the Army. He came home on leave for our wedding, and about five days later we started a cross-country road trip to our new home on the west coast. There were no cell phones or GPS systems. We were armed with an Atlas and giddy with freedom. We would drive all day, check into a hotel at night, and get up early the next morning to do it again. We were exhausted, but we were high on life.

The newlywed season reveals how much you don’t actually know about your spouse. We had known each other for five years before we married, but there were surprises at every turn. This makes me laugh now, but I didn’t know what a big talker he is. He didn’t know that I have a limited amount of words every day. I didn’t know he was such a creative, outside the box thinker. He didn’t know I was analytical and not a risk taker. He didn’t know I need an organized, uncluttered environment. I didn’t know he can thrive in utter chaos. Over the course of about four years we leaned into the newness of it all and learned to deeply depend on each other in spite of our differences. Then we were ushered into the season of new parenthood.

We looked at each other the day after our son was born and I said, “I can’t believe they are letting us leave this hospital with this baby.” Tim completely agreed. Oh, we had all the supplies … the diapers, the wipes, the little bitty clothes, the car seat. We had read the “What to Expect” books and “The Baby Book”, but it was still completely surreal that we were going to be totally responsible for the little nugget in the bassinet.

The new parenthood season actually lasted a while because we had three kids in just under four years. The seasons are funny though. The days are long, but if you blink a new season starts. Kids in school become kids who are teenagers. Then you have kids driving who become kids going to college. No matter how much you try to savor each moment, time just keeps racing forward. Then you have kids who get married and kids who move away, which rings in the season of the empty nest.

We often say we totally understand how marriages fall apart at this stage. You have spent the better part of your adult life focused completely on the welfare of your children. You have worked unbelievably hard to provide what they need. It’s easy to become people who are working side by side for a common goal who cease to see each other face to face. We felt that at first. We both longed for the seasons that had come before and for the vibrant energy that filled the house when the kids were here.

But with time there came a subtle shift. We began to see glimpses of the people who weren’t just “mom” and “dad”. We started to focus on the next season. What adventures do we want to have? What unexpected doors will God open in His providence? One thing we know for certain: God is weaving the story of our lives. From season to season He has provided exactly what we needed in ways that were beyond anything we could have imagined. In every season, we want to rest in the truth that though we may not know what will unfold, we know He is working for our good.

Our friends go on and on about another season. They say, “You think you know what love is, and then you have grandchildren.” Maybe we’ll experience it. Maybe one day we will be the ones bombarding friends and strangers alike with pictures and regaling them with stories of the smartest, most beautiful children that have ever been born. It doesn’t sound like us, but you never know.