Category Archives: Seasons

When a Good Thing Comes to an End

Today is perhaps my last quiet day home with just me and the kids for the summer. Monday morning, I officially become a full-time working mom for the first time. It’s a transition I am excited to make, and I’m beyond grateful for the opportunities it opens up for not only me, but also my family.

But of course, in order for something new and exciting to begin, it means the end of an era. The stay-at-home mom season of my life has to come to an end so I can become a teacher again. Seasons of transition always bring with them a jumbled excess of emotions to unwind and make sense of, so of course this summer has kept me busy doing just that.

The time I’ve been home with my kids has been an invaluable opportunity. It has also been the most challenging time of my life. I’ve undergone countless overhauls on perspective, purpose, needs, and identity.


I now know the negative effects sleep deprivation has on me;

Sweet Summer

the impossible yet necessary quest to strike up a balanced friendship with isolation;

Me + kids

three-year-olds can give you bloody noses (unintentionally of course);

Sand box

I’m capable of praising and loathing poop multiple times in any given day;


play dates are sometimes more important for the moms than they are for the kids;


and coffee has miraculous powers.

I’ve also learned one of life’s most important lessons in the time I’ve been raising these kids I love so much: Every experience- both and good and bad – is for a season.

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to be a stay-at-home mom, and I will forever be grateful that God honored that desire of my heart, but for our family, it is time for a change.

My kids aren’t babies anymore because they weren’t created to remain in the infant stage forever. They were made to grow, and so was I. The greatest gift God has given me as a mother is that, no matter how many changes my family or I go through, I will always be a mom – Dash and Daisy’ mom. As their mom, I’m given an incredible responsibility to teach them how to be brave, try new things, and never stop learning or growing.

The saying, “All good things must come to an end,” may leave a melancholy air with it. As I’ve worked through my jumbled emotions this summer, I have decided it’s unfortunate and unjust to make that statement by itself. I’ve reflected on the numerous good things and times that have come to an end in my lifetime, but I can say with certainty that eventually, saying goodbye to those things has always brought about new good things, and oftentimes even better things.

So yes, I do feel a tad emotional as this time in my life winds up. I will obviously miss the luxury of staying in my pajamas on the mornings that follow up a rough night with a sick kid, but I am thrilled at the opportunity to leave a legacy with 130+ kids in addition to my own each year. I might not get to relish afternoon nap time in the way I used to, but I get to be a very active and empathetic cheerleader for Dash as we start school together in just a couple of weeks. Most importantly, I get to prove to my kids that it’s important to live with this philosophy:

When good things come to an end, make


A Winter Poem


You taunt me every year with your isolating illnesses and crippling storms, bringing out the worst in everybody. Most generally, I don’t like you. Even so, I do my best to find your most admirable attributes and enjoy making memories with the unique qualities your season brings.

Snow is beautiful. The magical way it meanders through the air to change landscapes thrills me. I adore snow angels and snowballs, Olafs and sled tracks. I wonder at the way the white blanket makes my part of the world echo while it dazzles even the faintest light into looking brighter.


But the snow isn’t every day of winter. It slowly melts, leaving behind muddy mounds of muck. Just when I was finding joy in your beauty, Winter, you goad me with messy puddles to muddle the otherwise desolate backdrop of dormancy.

I don’t know what to do with dormant seasons, Winter, and this is why I believe you and I don’t have a healthier relationship.

“Rest!” You tell me as I do my best to follow the example of nature.

And so I do in the moments where I would rather be investing in the world outside. The virtual world scoffs at this notion of rest. It begs me to find something of worth to do with my time, or at least settle for filling it with mind-numbing time killers.


“I’m only one season,” you kindly remind me.

“Then why do you seem to last longer than the rest?” I reply between sniffles.


I don’t know if we will ever be good friends, quiescent ogre. You require me to dig deep within my reserves to see the hope of sunshine after weeks of gray. Even still, I must admit that as spring approaches each year, I feel just a bit stronger because of what you required me to endure, and for that I give you my greatest respect.