“Mom! Look! Lightning bugs. The first ones! By the bushes! See?”
I turn the key and there’s silence. Isaiah presses his hands against glass and we wait. We wait for a few seconds, maybe more, and then we see them. Golden twinkles. Sweet blips of light that break through gray.
We leave the car and I sit on the steps while my son chases fireflies. He darts around our old maple and bolts to the lilac bushes along the fence. I know that if he catches one in his gentle hand, he’ll release it. And it doesn’t take long before one rests on his outstretched palm.
“Look, Mom. It’s beautiful.” Up close the light glows green. Isaiah smiles and the firefly takes off. For a moment it’s one with the night.
Suddenly I could be in the center of the 70’s. It’s the way the air settles on my skin and the way the quiet has a sound of its own. The night sky is seamless and it covers all that I know. We would’ve been in the backyard of my childhood home, my three sisters and me, and my best friend Tracy. Our hair would be long and straight down our backs and our legs would be lean and brown. We’d chase fireflies, too, bare feet swift on the early-summer grass. My mom would be with us, her inner-child strong. We’d laugh and fall lost in the wonder of this simple, precious thing.
Time moves too fast.
It’s striking to me, the way years flow and the pages of life turn. Sometimes I handle it with gratitude and grace, but most often it hits me like cold pelting rain. On the days that I struggle with children growing up, the changes that come with growing older, and fear of one day living without ones I love, on the days that life does truly feel like a mist, I’m learning to be thankful.
When time passes swiftly and changes come strong, I’m grateful for the grace of an unchanging God.
Time moves. People grow. Change happens with each breath.
But the Lord is steadfast.
The counsel of the Lord stands forever, the plans of his heart to all generations. Psalm 33:11 ESV
His timeless compassion, strength, and grace are my resting place. His character is unchanging and He is home to my restless heart. In His Presence is where I find peace.
“Hey, Mom? Catch fireflies with me?” my son asks.
His hand is on my shoulder, and joy shines in his smile. For just a moment I think of his grown brothers, long-ago invitations, and the same hazel-green eyes. But I’m not going to fret. I’m going to run and play and live in this moment with my child. And when the night moves along, if I begin to worry over the things I’ll need to release and the new things that will come, I’ll be okay.
I’ll take the changes to my unchanging God.