This morning, my youngest takes me to the garden to see the very first blush of red on the very first strawberry in the patch.
Almost. Soon. In due time. I nearly turn away because it’s not ripe yet.
I take a photo because I love this, right here, right now, at this stage.
I spent so many years hurrying through the stages of motherhood. I spent so many years hurrying through the stages of my own life. I wanted the next thing. I wanted to chase the next great dream.
“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” I hear the old words from Albus Dumbledore, and I realize that in all my hoping for the next thing, I often forget to live.
I pray that we love each and every stage–wherever, however, and whenever. Even in the unripe. Even in the not yet.