The 4 Quarters

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The 4 Quarters: Quarter 2, The Waking Up

Eighteen Years Old…to Eighteen Years Old Again

That’s how I measure it now.

It took eighteen years to get Erin from birth to that first launch: off to college and out the door. Six years later, Nicholas reached that same milestone. Six years after that, the twins did too.

Eighteen years… then twelve more.

Thirty years of raising children, back to back to back.

That was most of my adult life.

Somewhere in the middle of all the carpools, football games, school forms, late nights, volunteer commitments, church, and simply showing up for everyone who needed me, I lost track of a question I used to know how to answer.

What do you like to do, Cindy?

The Quiet That Caught Me Off Guard

It was the spring before the twins graduated from high school. I was about to turn fifty when someone asked me what I planned to do next.

That simple conversation led to a few questions I wasn’t expecting.

What are you going to do?

What hobbies do you have?

What do you enjoy?

I didn’t have an answer.

Not a fumbling one.

Not a “let me think about it” one.

Nothing.

There was just…quiet.

Looking back, I think those questions simply gave a name to something I had been feeling for a long time. There had been a sadness sitting beneath the surface, but I couldn’t explain it because nothing was really wrong.

My family was healthy. Fred’s career was thriving. The kids were doing well.

Life was full.

And yet somewhere underneath all that fullness, I had quietly disappeared.

No one pushed me aside.

I simply kept making room.

Room for my children.

Room for Fred.

Room for church.

Room for volunteering.

Room for serving as Team Mom for the football team.

Room for school events, practices, games, fundraisers, and carpools.

Room for parents.

Room for siblings.

Room for nieces and nephews.

Room for friends who needed someone to listen.

Room for anyone God placed in front of me.

None of those things were wrong. In fact, they were beautiful. They shaped our family and gave our life so much joy. But little by little, I kept making room until one day I realized there wasn’t much room left for me.

That question felt like a gentle tap on my shoulder.

For the first time in a long time…

I felt it.

Every quarter requires a different game plan. Life does too.

I Ignored the Tap for Seven Years

I wish I could tell you I went home that afternoon, bought a journal, made a plan, and started discovering who I was again.

I didn’t.

Thirty years to raise my children.

Seven more years before I truly answered that question.

Those seven years weren’t empty.

We moved back to Texas.

We followed our boys through college football and eventually the UFL.

We celebrated weddings.

Welcomed seven grandchildren.

Grieved people we loved.

Took a vacation or two for fun.

Life kept moving.

And that’s exactly why it was so easy to ignore the question.

Over the years I’ve learned something about football.

A good coach doesn’t keep calling the same play simply because it worked in the first quarter.

The game changes.

The players change.

The defense adjusts.

Eventually, the game requires a different play.

I didn’t.

I kept running the one play I knew by heart:

Take care of everybody.

It wasn’t a bad play.

It was built on love.

On faith.

On commitment.

It was exactly what God had called me to for many years.

But it wasn’t the only play He had written into my story.

Instead of asking what I wanted, I stayed available for every phone call, every need, every “Mom, can you?”

Showing up for my family wasn’t the problem.

Sometimes they genuinely needed me.

Sometimes…

I simply needed to still feel needed.

That is a harder sentence to write.

Because it’s much easier to keep pouring into someone else’s life than it is to sit quietly long enough to ask what God might be inviting you into next.

Even a full, busy season eventually winds down to something new.

Waking Up Isn’t Usually Dramatic

I used to think waking up would happen all at once.

A lightning bolt.

A breakthrough.

A crystal-clear calling.

Instead, it was more like opening my eyes slowly.

The light felt uncomfortable.

So I closed them again.

Then God nudged me.

Again.

And again.

If you’ve had your own version of that quiet question whispering in your heart, I hope you’ll hear this too.

I’m not here to shame you.

I ignored mine for seven years.

The beautiful thing is that God never stopped asking.

He wasn’t disappointed.

He wasn’t impatient.

He wasn’t asking me to love my family less.

He was simply reminding me that He hadn’t forgotten me.

He was inviting me to remember that I was still His daughter before I was anyone else’s wife, mom, grandmother, sister, aunt, or friend.

What Waking Up Requires

Looking back, I think waking up requires three things.

First, you have to stop confusing your family’s next chapter with the end of yours.

Watching your children build lives of their own can feel like your purpose is ending. It isn’t. Their story is expanding, and so is yours.

Second, pay attention to the questions you can’t answer.

I couldn’t answer what I enjoyed.

I couldn’t answer what came next.

Those blank spaces weren’t failures.

They were invitations.

Finally, give yourself grace.

Seven years is a long time.

I wish it hadn’t taken me that long.

But God didn’t waste those years.

He was preparing my heart long before I realized He was.

Do Not Forget Yourself

This isn’t about abandoning your family.

It isn’t about becoming someone completely different.

It isn’t about reinventing yourself overnight.

It’s simply about remembering that you’re still in there too.

You are still allowed to dream.

You are still allowed to learn.

You are still allowed to grow.

If you’re standing where I once stood, with children launching into lives of their own and a question quietly sitting in your heart, I hope you’ll hear this from someone who’s lived both sides of it.

There is nothing wrong with you for not knowing what’s next.

Just don’t let seven years become twenty.

That tap on my shoulder came on a spring afternoon before I turned fifty.

I’m grateful I finally turned around.

Turning around didn’t immediately give me a plan.

It gave me a choice.

I could keep running the same play because it was familiar.

Or I could trust that God still had another quarter for me to play.

And that’s where Quarter 3 begins.

Do not forget yourself.

Cindy

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Continue the Journey

This post is part of The 4 Quarters, a series about the seasons of a woman’s life through the lens of football and faith.

The Series

• ✓ Quarter 1: The Dreaming
• ✓ Quarter 2: The Waking Up
• Quarter 3: Coming Soon
• Quarter 4: Coming Soon

If you missed Quarter 1, I’d love for you to start there before moving on.

Have you ever found yourself in a season where you realized you’d slowly lost sight of yourself? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.