Blurry fireflies

Flashes of light outside our bedroom window. I can't make out any details, because it's late at night, far past the hours of contact-wearing, and I've taken my glasses off. I lay in bed, a sleeping baby next to me, watching the blurry flashes of light. And while I can't see the details, I know what they are. Hundreds of fireflies. Weaving their way in the dark, night air. Bright spots, even when I can't see the details and I knew there was a metaphor here.

Nicholas and I have walked through some particularly difficult seasons over the last several years: losses of family members, multiple pregnancy losses, big moves, etc. I would say we are not in a difficult season right now. But, there are days when my goodness, I feel like I haven't done the best job as a mother, a wife, a friend, a daughter. The unanswered text messages because I opened them to reply, got interrupted, and then forgot. The moments I lost my patience with the boys and spoke unkindly and needed to apologize, ask for forgiveness, and repair. The times Nicholas and I misunderstood each other or realized we've gone days without actually connecting or having an uninterrupted conversation. Feeling overwhelmed by the tasks that I chose to do in a given day, even if they weren't essential, and annoyed by the essential tasks of motherhood, because I chose to direct my attention elsewhere.

And on those sorts of days, when I finish the day, feeling (knowing) it could have gone better, but it didn't, I lay in bed and look for the blurry fireflies outside our window. Amidst the bright little lights outside, I think of the bright spots in that day – the baby's laughs with peekaboo, the way Finn gestures when he says certain things, and how he gives me kisses "to fill my love tank." The eagerness with which Cooper runs over to show me something he's made. The non-verbal joke Nicholas makes from across the room just for me, as we make eye contact, and the way it made me laugh. How Cooper prays for the weather and for Nicholas if he has a headache. And the way Cooper wants to talk about just how big the galaxy is and how big God is because He made it all!

Maybe you're eyesight is blurry from fatigue or a long season of waiting and praying. Or you're in a season of short nights and long days, or one of dreaming of the future and still trying to find joy with your life right now – I would like to invite you to join me in noticing the blurry fireflies in our lives. The bright, undefined spots. The grace for the gap between where I am and where I'd like to be in certain areas in my life. The things that unexpectedly make me tear up, or think, Wow, God is working, or Oh my goodness, what a gift. The things, little they may be, that pull us to wonder and worship. The reminders of how great is His faithfulness. I am doing a hymn study and that was the featured hymn the other day:

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

I'll be here, worshipping our God, my bright hope for tomorrow, the Creator of all the fireflies.