My view from here is a wistful one.  Through the window of my home office, I see my neighbor walk by with her toddler and her newborn in the stroller.  The little girl is practically prancing down the street in her princess dress.  It’s not Halloween anymore, and it doesn’t look like they’re having a birthday party.  It’s just Thursday.  And I guess that’s as good a reason as any to go full princess mode. 

The whole thing made me smile as much as it made me cry.  To see young mothers with their young daughters can’t help but grip my heart.  I was never a young mother.  I’ll never have a daughter.  I’ll never have what I always wanted, and scenes like this are a vivid reminder of that loss. 

I always wanted to be that young mother taking her kids outside for a mid-morning walk.  I wanted to have a house full of kids, but I don’t.  Instead, I have a household where the number of pets outweighs the number of children (two fur babies, one stepson). 

But I take another look…

My view outside the home, my view inside the home – wherever I look I see evidence of God’s faithfulness, His goodness, His sovereign hand guiding me every step of the way.  There’s so much I do have: a husband who loves me and is committed to me, a child in my home to love, friends, health, resources. I have things to look forward to. I have hope.

My view from home is not what I thought it would be, and I deal with the grief as it ebbs and flows.  But regardless of what the view looks like, this is my home.  This is my household.  I choose to be thankful for all I do have and to steward it well. 

So I pray…

“Regardless of what I have, regardless of what I don’t have, regardless of the circumstances and emotions, You are Lord, and You are good.  You are worthy of my unwavering trust and undying devotion.  I give all of me – the mess, the sadness, the things that I wish were different, the things that don’t come easily for me, the things I’m thankful for, the potential in me – I give it all freely to You.  I’m Yours, Lord. 

In the gap between what I always wanted and what I actually have, between hopeful expectation and bittersweet reality, I find You.  And You give me the healing that is only found in You.” 

That healing enables me to be surrounded by scenes of happy mothers and babies – like the one I witnessed today – but not be overcome by them.  So, the next time my neighbors go for a walk, whether as princesses or fairies or superheroes, I can smile through my tears.  I can rest in the knowledge that my view from home is something God sees, too.  I am living my story, not somebody else’s, and He is with me as it unfolds.

As I look at my life, as I view my home, I look through the viewfinder of faith and see God, and that is enough for me.