What I Listen To

I listen to advice, but I don’t listen to foreboding doom.

I listen to women sharing how to avoid my children coming between me and my marriage. I don’t listen to negative voices saying, “it will never be the same.”

I listen to child training perspectives. I don’t listen to bitterness saying, “just wait.”

Because when they warned me of the terrible twos and threes, they didn’t tell me it would be my favorite.

When they painted visions of chaos and sharpie-marked walls, they forgot to tell me a four year old learns so quickly. Or that a two year old can have such fun conversations.

When they warned me of my marriage crippling under the pressure of children, they didn’t tell me I would never be as in love as I am now, with our hands full.

They forgot to tell me watching my husband be "Daddy" would make me want to do anything for him, or that the shared vision of family would make the romance sweeter, the date nights more special, and the unity deeper than we ever hoped.

When they warned me of future hardships, they didn’t say each challenge would make me more of the woman I always wanted to become.

They forgot to say that in losing myself I would find my Savior.

So I listen to advice. I listen to criticism. I listen to those who believe it’s possible to live a life well-loved.

Struggle is a part of life, and I want to learn from many.

But my ear is deaf to words that blot out potential happiness. To those who believe joy can’t be savored because of what’s around the corner.

Just waiting won’t help a life.

Changing. Growing. Seeking Jesus, will.

Who knows, they might have forgotten to tell me that it will be my favorite.