Are We Living Fully & Loving Deeply? 

Originally published September 23, 2009

Living Fully, Loving Deeply

“The days pass slowly, but the years fly quickly by.”

I have heard those words from so many parents over the years, and I never tire of them. Every time someone says it, I feel the truth of it land a little differently.

The ordinary days can feel long. The bedtime routines, the daycare drop-offs, the meals, the errands, the work, the travel, the constant decisions. But somehow, while we are busy getting through the day, the years quietly gather speed.

And then one small moment stops us.

A Wake-Up Call

Last week, I traveled for another teaching weekend, this time to Lexington, Kentucky. My older son was becoming more aware of my absences, and this trip was hard on him.

At bedtime, he prayed “that Mommy’s plane doesn’t crash.”

The next morning, he said he had dreamed that I came home and gave him lots of hugs and kisses.

That kind of moment stays with you.

Children notice. They feel the rhythm of our lives. They may not understand deadlines, bills, callings, service work, or professional responsibilities, but they understand presence. They understand goodbye. They understand whether our arms are available.

And honestly, sometimes those moments are the invitation I need to pause.

Not to shame myself.
Not to add another impossible standard.
Not to pretend we can do everything perfectly.

But to ask a gentler question:

Am I living in a way that reflects what I say matters most?

The Good Things Can Still Become Too Much

So much of what fills our calendars is good.

Work can be meaningful. Teaching can be meaningful. Music, volunteering, community projects, ministry, friendships, service, and children’s activities can all be beautiful parts of a full life.

But even good things can become too much when there is no room left to breathe.

A full calendar is not the same thing as a full life.

Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is not add more, achieve more, or say yes one more time. Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is notice what we already have, give thanks for it, and protect enough space to actually experience it.

A Gentle Reminder

The other night, I had a two-hour choral practice after a full day. My son had already spent all day in daycare that particular day, and when I told him goodbye, his chin trembled. He was afraid I was leaving again.

I promised him I would be back soon. I hugged him, kissed him, reassured him, and left.

When I came home at 9:30 p.m., well past his bedtime, he was still waiting for me at the door.

He was sitting in his great-grandfather’s handmade wicker chair, dressed in his Thomas the Train pajamas.

He looked up and said softly, “Mommy, I missed you.”

There it was again.

The reminder.

Not a guilt trip. Not a failure. Not proof that I should never leave or never work or never pursue the things I love.

Just a reminder that this life, this child, this season, this chance to love well — it is all profoundly temporary.

Practicing Gratitude in the Middle of Real Life

Gratitude does not mean pretending life is easy.

It does not mean ignoring exhaustion, financial pressure, childcare logistics, professional responsibilities, or the complicated realities many families carry.

Gratitude is not denial.

Gratitude is attention.

It is the practice of noticing what is still good, still tender, still sacred, even in the middle of the mess.

For me, that practice has looked like this:

1. Notice the Small Moments Before They Pass

The sleepy hug. The bedtime prayer. The little voice calling from the doorway. The child waiting up in pajamas because he just wants one more minute with you.

These moments may not look important from the outside, but they are often the very heart of family life.

2. Let Love Shape the Calendar

There are seasons when work, travel, and commitments are unavoidable. But I am learning to let love have a voice in the schedule too.

Not every opportunity is meant for this season.

Not every good thing deserves my yes.

3. Protect White Space

Families need margin.

Children need unhurried time. Parents need breathing room. Relationships need space where nothing is being performed, produced, or checked off a list.

Sometimes the most nourishing family time is not elaborate. It is a walk, a simple meal, reading together, sitting outside, or being available without rushing to the next thing.

4. Choose the “Good Stuff” Carefully

Music, service, volunteering, community work, and professional growth all matter to me.

But I am learning that good things still need boundaries.

A life filled entirely with good commitments can still leave too little room for the people we love most.

5. Count Blessings Without Romanticizing the Hard Parts

Some days are beautiful. Some days are exhausting. Most days are both.

The practice is not to pretend everything is easy, but to remember that even the hard days may contain something worth holding onto.

A child’s hand in yours.
A tired laugh at the end of the day.
A whispered “I missed you.”
The chance to begin again tomorrow.

6. Ask Better Questions

Instead of asking, “How much more can I fit in?” I am trying to ask:

What needs my presence right now?

What am I grateful for today?

What can wait?

What matters most in this season?

Where is love asking me to slow down?

Living Fully, Every Day

Jonathan Swift once wrote, “May you live all the days of your life.”

That is still my prayer.

Not that we would live perfectly.
Not that we would get the balance right every time.
Not that we would never feel stretched, tired, conflicted, or uncertain.

But that we would stay awake to our lives.

That we would notice the people right in front of us.

That we would practice gratitude not as a performance, but as a way of returning to what matters.

Because in the end, living fully may have less to do with how much we accomplish, and more to do with how deeply we are willing to pay attention.