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    I have read the Chronicles of Narnia too many times to count. Memories of autumnal afternoons with my father under the confier trees ploughing through pages of pure magic. However only when reading the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe to my own daughters in recent weeks have I ever read the dedication at the very start, and this is probably where my writing begins again too.

    My Dear Lucy,

    I wrote this story for you, but when I began it I had not realized that girls grow quicker than books. As a result you are already too old for fairy tales, and by the time it is printed and bound you will be older still. But some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. You can then take it down from some upper shelf, dust it, and tell me what you think of it. I shall probably be too deaf to hear, and too old to understand a word you say but I shall still be,

    your affectionate Godfather,

    C. S. Lewis.

    The last few years ( yes, It’s been years since I did this) have passed in a blink of an eye. I remember my parents always saying they would wish I’d stop growing up and in return I’d give them a beautiful gift of any typical 14 year old: ” eye roll, huff and shoulder shrug “;  thinking they were molly coddling and smothering. Now as the 2 year old who inspired the start of this blog turns 8 in a few weeks I feel like grabbing the clock, jumping on it and that said, all the clocks in the house – I’m even tempted to climb the steeple of the local church and vandalise the bells in a hope that their ceaseless 15 minute dongs would stop the constant time lapse of my life. How hard it is to embrace the gift of growth. I know the days to come are going to be filled with so much wonder and beauty and maturity. A new season of adventure, discovery and independence. I look forward to seeing my children grow up and being their ‘trusted advisors’ rather than their bottom wipers or housemaid but the days I am passing through even in all their mundane beauty are, to be honest the best of my life. Never have I experienced such intensity of love, of pain and of joy. The good and the bad, side by side making the best even better. As a mummy who has focused all effort and attention on homemaking these last 8 years I have learned to live in the tension between the mundane and the day dream. I have made it my mission to fish through and find the treasure and that I have undoubtedly found. Reading back through my posts I see glitter and gold dust everywhere.

    However unlike CS Lewis, these ‘fairy tales’ of memories will not be shelved, allowed to get dusty.  The treasure they hold has too much potential to be put down and forgotten I have a choice; to bury this fortune or to invest further. What good is it to bury this treasure – to preserve and protect it? The potential within it cannot be expressed or realised if it is suppressed, oppressed and contained. Causing my children to forever be small ( although I will always encourage then to be young at heart!) , to live permanently in the Instagram perfections of moments gone by. Life and growth come from freedom- both mine and theirs.   It is now a time to invest all those decisions and memories and see them multiply in my children and in myself over the days to come. After all the moments are one thing but it is what they have demonstrated and nurtured that is the important part. Instead they will be the fuel for the next chapter. This is a new season, one to see the way I have modelled trusting faith, right choice making, discipline, loyalty, love, joy, self control, mercy, patience, beauty, confidence, good self esteem duplicate in and through my little ones who are now not so little.  My prayer is all the mistakes I have made will drop by the wayside, the ‘shouty mum’ moments forgotten. As we progress through parenting and new milestones appear on the horizon, high school, boyfriends, career decisions and much more, the foundation has been laid and I know in my heart of hearts it is good, strong and ready, even if I am not yet. Like CS Lewis I can see these memories are the constant we share, rooted in Him- the most Constant of all. The seasons may change but He still remains, so must I.


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