Seventeen Years: by Karen Lindberg

My road to motherhood began a little shaky – it was laced with miscarriages, failed fertility treatments and multiple adoptions that fell through.  Nash and MacKenzie will never truly understand how wanted and loved they were long before they were born on December 12, 2007.  They have been our miracles from the very start.  17 years ago today, I became a Mama, and they became the absolute most precious gift I have ever been given.

Last week I was scrolling through some memories and a picture of Mac sitting on the counter helping me cook breakfast popped up.  It quickly took me down memory lane and I realized that nearly every day for the past 17 years, Mac has sat in the kitchen with me. When she was little, the moment we would get home from work and daycare, she would have me lift her up on the counter and she would sit there for most of the evening talking with me as I cooked dinner, did dishes, worked on laundry and kept the house running.  She eventually got too big for the counter and moved to a chair at our bar.  In fact, that chair is so worn that you can barely stand to sit on it – the padding is gone and the frame of it is nearly all that remains.  A few weeks ago, I switched that chair out and the minute Mac got home and hopped in the chair she said “WAIT!  Who messed up my chair?”  So, we switched the chairs back and she sat there doing homework and visiting with me while I did my evening chores.  It’s not just a tradition for us to be in the kitchen together, it’s a way of life.  It’s predictable.  It’s what we do.  It’s my favorite part of the entire day and I look forward to it every day when I leave work.  For 17 years I have watched Mac grow up right next to me in our kitchen. 

Seventeen years.  Seventeen years have flown by!  I remember when the twins were little and everyone was quick to give me advice about time – “Time flies, enjoy every second”, “Don’t blink”, “Make all the memories that you can – they will be gone before you know it”...these comments always made me want to roll my eyes – I was knee deep in 14 bottles and at least that many diapers a day – some moments weren’t that enjoyable and some days I just prayed for nighttime to fall so I could get a small moment of quiet to myself.  I wished time away.  But now…now, I understand the depth of those words.  The days are long, but the years are oh-so short!

Just a couple of weeks ago we went on our first (and probably only) college visit to KSU.  As we walked through the doors, I fought back a huge lump in my throat as I thought about how it felt like just yesterday that I walked through those doors as a student and now my babies were walking through those doors.  That lump grew as I watched Mac’s excitement in the day – the questions she asked about her intended career path, the focus she gave to the clubs she could be part of, the look on her face as she watched the students pass by her and the visible excitement at the discussion on dorm rooms and college life.  As we sat and had lunch in the Kramer Dining Center, she looked at me and said, “Mom, I think I am ready to spread my wings”.  Wow – those words blew me away as I stared at this amazing young lady that I have watched grow up right before my eyes over the past 17 years.  I fought back tears as I smiled and said, “I think you are too, and I am so excited to watch you spread those wings” – and while my head and my heart were battling fiercely in that moment, I meant every ounce of that.  I truly can’t wait to watch her spread those wings.

Seventeen years.  I have had seventeen years with my favorite girl in my kitchen.  And I get one and a half more.  And then I get to watch her spread those wings and continue her quest in becoming the person that God intended for her to be and the amazing human that her father and I have so proudly raised.  Will I be ready?  Most likely not.  Will she be ready?  I sure hope so and I believe in my heart that she will – because this is the moment that the past seventeen years in our kitchen have been preparing her for. 

As I walked down memory lane, I was reminded that all chairs are meant to become empty at some point – whether we are ready for them to or not.  It is true that time is a thief.  I know that the day will come when I come home, and my sweet girl won’t be in that chair greeting me and talking about everything that happened that day.  That day will hurt, and that day will tear my heart apart.  But I also know that on that same day, our sweet girl will be transitioning to the next part of her amazing journey – she will be stepping out to show the world the amazing person that she is and hopefully embarking on some of the greatest moments of her life.  I can only imagine how beautiful those wings are going to be as we watch her spread them. 

For the next year and a half, I will treasure that chair and the beauty that it holds.  And then when I find it empty, I will hopefully remind myself of the memories that it holds and all of the amazing moments that were spent in its presence.  And hopefully, Mac will always know that her chair is waiting for her if her world feels heavy and she needs rest.  That chair was always meant to become empty, whether I was ready or not.

Maybe you are facing an empty chair right now?  If so, I hope you know that I am praying that the memories held within that chair will bring you peace and comfort.   

Seventeen years.  I am beyond blessed.

Happy Birthday, Mac and Nash – I have no idea how I was so lucky to be picked by God to be your mom, but I will always be thankful.