To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven….
This verse resonates with me. I’ve reached a point in my life where children are growing up, moving out, and creating their own lives and families. It’s bittersweet. On one hand, I’m happy and excited to see this occur, and on the other, I miss those little hands in mine.
My main job and identity has been mother. And under the title of “mom” there are many roles to fill. I used to tease my husband by telling him that if I died, he’d go broke trying to hire enough people to replace me.
I remember attending a workshop that still speaks to me. Unfortunately, I can’t remember the presenter’s name, but her words stuck with me. She said, “If I’d published my first book at the time I first submitted it, I’d have been a one book wonder.” I’m paraphrasing because I don’t have the exact words. But that’s very close.
She went on to discuss how at that time, her life would not have permitted her to give the attention to a writing career necessary to be successful. Looking back, she was thankful for the way things turned out. When her writing contract finally arrived, it was at a time she could devote herself to her craft.
I’ve consoled myself with this on multiple occasions and I’ve heard this sentiment repeated by at least two other authors I know. But, I have to admit to wondering when my time will come. It feels as though I’ve been waiting forever. Some things truly are out of our control. I trust that someone with much more infinite wisdom than I will choose the right time.