The Best Days of My Life

These are the best days of your life, they say. 

And I wholeheartedly agree.

Except for those single years.  When I was free to run up and down mountains, have quiet moments, laugh with roommates late into the night, play my guitar and travel the world -- sharing the love of God with anyone I met.  Singing and playing piano on continents I learned of in Social Studies.  I knew God was going to use me for good, confident in the depths of His love.  The confirmation that somehow, my life would be forever involved in full-time ministry, was solidified. I went wherever my heart desired.  I knew nothing of fear.

My young self, in India.

Those were some good days.

Or the good days of finding the love of my life.  Staying up late, watching movies, building our repertoire of inside jokes, sharing our hearts, eating Mac 'N Cheese, saying 'I do' after 3 months of dating, while surrounded with amazing kids who were the best youth group kids we had yet to meet.  Hours and hours and days and days of worship  and teaching in youth ministry together.  Our calling to work in ministry together was a blessing.

Married!

Those were good days.  Really good.

Then, I think about putting all our earthly possessions in storage and entering the mission field around our two year wedding anniversary.  Oh, the things we learned, the countries we experienced and the lives that were impacted.  Ours changed the most.  Stretched in our inmost beings, we put "our" lives on hold.  Instead of biological children like all of our friends back home, we had orphans.  Instead of possessions, we lived in community, sharing all.  Instead of starting a savings account and building up a nest egg, we prayed for donations of simple things, like, tooth paste.  Our prayers ALWAYS answered.  Our lives forever ruined for the ordinary.  We will NEVER be the same again, thank God.

In Afghanistan, trying to make some wool.  Fail.

Difficult, soul-testing, heart-aching days, but really, really, really good days.

But these days?  I live in America, something I didn't want to do nor did I think I could ever do, without sinking into a materialistic, complacent, depressive lifestyle, because I had never met an American that didn't fall into one of those categories, if not all.  I've got my three best friends by my side.  I'm surrounded by a runny nose, cracker crumbs under my feet, fingerprints on everything sacred, newborn poop stains on all clothing, and crying that is volleyed between my two littles.  In some ways, I have settled, which is frustrating to me, but I know I need to enjoy this time.  I take turns with my faithful man, juggling what life is now.  Chubby wrists, pursed lips (that beg for kisses), two little minds begging for knowledge, 'neck hugs' and smiles just because I'm Mama.

Naptime with my sweet littles.

These really are the best days of my life. 

And I can hardly wait to see, in the years to come, how the best gets even better.