In downtown Kalamazoo there is an odd little building nestled on a triangular piece of land where we could meet and share a cup of roasted goodness inside the Water Street Coffee Joint. If we were to meet there this morning you would need an umbrella, because it is supposed to rain. As we sit and catch up here is what I would share about what’s been in my heart.
Elly, my youngest daughter was born the summer before Katy, our oldest daughter, started her senior year of high school. I remember thinking then that one day the older three kids would all be gone and it would be just Mark and I with the little girls.
That day came this week.
Our “original three” are all living outside of our home and it is just Mark and I with the girlies.
I made less coffee in the morning.
We only ordered one pizza.
I have three rooms available for guests to come and stay.
It was quieter as we watched a little television and then locked up the house for the night.
I remember thinking after Elly was born that about the time the “original three” were leaving the house I would probably be moving into menopause along with its accompanying symptoms.
Last night my window was cracked, allowing the 40-degree night air to cool the room, as my husband slept under layers of blankets I laid awake, welcoming the cold air.
I am aging, along with my children. Katy is the age I was when she was born and Allison will graduate from college this year…. can I be that old? Elly just lost her two front teeth…can I be that young?
Some days I smile at the simplicity of life with my little girls. I make lunches, I sign homework folders, and I brush and braid their hair, read to them and say their prayers. It’s sweet and simple.
Some days I laugh, so I don’t cry, at the complexity of it all. Five children separated by seventeen years. Four girls born to a woman who had no sisters and a big family to wrap my arms around when I grew up with just one brother. I don’t know what I am doing; I have nothing to model this after from my childhood. Sometimes I feel a bit anxious and overwhelmed, something I have learned to tell Mark, who welcomes chaos like it’s a gift to be opened and enjoyed. He meets my anxiety with his smile and offers to order pizza or open up the hot tub, reminding me that sometimes a simple choice can restore the reality that life is good even when it feels a bit wild and overwhelming.
Recently I was told that I have a gift for nurturing others. I hadn’t really thought about it, but as I sat with that idea I realized that the complexity of my life has grown something beautiful in my heart. I have become a woman who has learned to offer nurturing. It’s taken decades to grow, and the presence of five children to love and be loved by to cultivate the soil of my heart so nurturing could grow.
I will be mothering children for years to come. Today my thoughts go to when there will be grandchildren to welcome while the little girls are still living at home. I know the complexity will not end, the chaos will continue, this is my life. I am learning that my arms are big enough to hold those who are in my care, and my heart is a safe place for them to come and rest. I love that and the coffee we’re sharing.
How about you? What would you share over a warm cup of something on a cold, rainy morning with a friend?
 
Tracy Johnson is a lover of stories and a reluctant dreamer, living by faith that “Hope deferred makes the heart sick but when dreams come true there is a life and joy” (Pro. 13:12). Married for 26 years, she is mother to five kids. After nearly a half century of life, she’s feeling like she may know who she is. Founder of Seized by Hope Ministries, she writes here.
 
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I love this entry and I love you. My heart is full and I feel so invited to share what is stirring there. Yes, you are one who nurtures others…your arms are a place of safety and comfort. Enjoy your coffee this morning…I am!
It is amazing that you can nurture so well others while you are living through huge life-changing times. You will mother the little girlies beautifully but in some ways differently because of your growth in the changes. I just stepped out onto the porch to sip coffee, feel the warm air and check the rain gauge – already 1″ – thanks for sharing the Coffee Joint…love all the photos.
I grew up in a family with the first 4 being born in four years I was number 5 born 9 years later and my youngest sister 6 years after that. There was much wrong in my family of origin but I loved having much older siblings and eventually they enjoyed me. I learned so much from from watching their growing up show. Never made the same mistakes(just thought up new ones) And I was free babysitting for years for their kids. I learned some of my best child rearing skills there…but I never thought how my Mother felt about all this. What it cost her. You have given me a new window, Tracy. Thank you. ps. I MISS Water Street and You.
Life passes by quickly. It’s interesting to read your thoughts and remember just how quickly. You are an amazing daughter and while we only offered you one sibling we could not be more pleased with the both of you and how God has used you both. My coffee is tasting particularly good this morning and is providing a lot of satisfaction with each sip. I’ll look forward to Water Street in December even if we have to sit inside.
Ah, I loved your post wholeheartedly Tracy. What a beautiful glimpse into your life and thoughts. You have a full and beautiful life and I love the nurturing that you have done to make it so. Also, it is so fun to finally know who John Sloan is. Like father like daughter, you are both gifted writers.
Tracy, there are several inches of snow on the ground this morning as I read your post. Your perspective is so comforting and is just what I needed to hear. Thank you for the many ways you have shared your life. I am so happy that you continue to discover more of who you are. You give me courage to embrace my gift of nurture even though it feels overwhelming. Blessings!
Yes, this is a complex space to walk… Elly and Libby both had words and tears for me as I pulled out of the driveway. It is odd to hold the ambivalence of gratitude and loss.
This is a perfect post to read as I sit this morning at Starbucks with a warm coffee, waiting for a friend. I love the words you’ve put to your changing reality as you settle into life with only Mark and the little girlies at home. I’m reminded of your yoga pants post earlier this year, wondering if you had it in you to do this all over again. And the sweetness of recognizing your nurturing arms with a capacity to hold a lot is so true, I’m glad you are welcoming this new space of both young and old.