My husband and I were thrilled with our firstborn, but people congratulating us usually added, “Enjoy your time with her. Soon she’ll be in school and you’ll be writing again.”

Sure, I’d think, in about eighteen years.

The reality was almost double, although God had clearly blessed us with our miracle child. I was young, at the peak of my career even while pregnant and writing on bedrest. Unheard of for a starting freelancer, my first contract was for three manuscripts. My first novel, with an afterword mentioning the anguish of our first miscarriage, was an Evangelical Christian Publishers Association bestseller. It even got a nod in Newsweek®.

And I was supposed to give all that up?

Looking back, I might’ve been able to have it all, but that seemed impossible. In the nearly thirty years since then, I’ve experienced many more miracles, including the births of two additional daughters. I’ve been blessed to witness how our gracious Father blesses even faulty obedience. And with the completion of my new manuscript, I’m eager to see how He revives my writing life.

Although I haven’t forgotten how long some days and nights in the past seemed, the decades have flown. God has supplied all that our family needed, carrying us again and again. My motto from Psalm 126 has come true: “Those who sow in tears shall reap with joyful shouting.”

Our two adult children advise their younger sibling to savor her time at home. Our middle child graduated from a Christian university with a bachelor’s degree in music composition and now teaches at our local early-childhood facility. Our oldest graduated from the same school and is now a medical doctor in Florida. She was able to live with us a lot last year before heading to her residency this summer. We can hardly believe God gave us another year together, but it’ll be our last for the next three to five–unless He surprises us once again.

Recently my husband and I came across a picture of a tree that matched the update our daughters gave our dining room. I bought it and put it on the wall secretly to see if either of our other children would notice. The remaining space I filled with another matching picture I’d never liked but kept because it had been a gift from my late mother.

As I hung the last picture, I realized that one of the sentiments appeared on both, a saying about a tree with branches growing different directions but sharing the same root. I had avoided such thoughts for years. Now that our family is separated by two thousand miles yet still connected, we’re living the truth of it.

Sometimes I’m just not ready for what God has in store, but when I look back there’s no other path I would’ve chosen. I’ve journeyed with Him long enough to realize that where He leads, I need to follow.

Once again I must grow in a different direction, strengthened, fed and supported by Him. I hope you’re with me on this adventure back to my wonderful world of writing. Ready or not, it’s time!