I Can't Think of a Title...I Am Sort of Rebellious, Like That.

You know what I have been noticing lately?  Old people.  Walking unsteady, with leathery, wrinkled hands, purses slung on crooked shoulders.   Holding on to someone or something, a cane, a walker, and the like, for support.  Full of knowledge, that only life can and will bestow upon me, if I am ever as lucky to learn what they have through experience, and circumstance.

 I also have been taken with young ones.  Babies, toddlers, preschoolers, kids on the playground.   Full of energy and pure joy.  Limitless.  Beyond enthusiastic, to take on the next moment.  To experience, as Pochantas so eloquently sang, "What's just around the river bend."

In fact, just today, I witnessed a little dark haired cutie, clutching the hands of her grandparents on either side of her.  She was giddy, and jumpy, and full of that insatiable zest for LIFE.  As she bounced between those elderly bookends, this little one exuded pure excitement.  She was going to have an amazing day, there was no doubt about it.

I ponder, how is it that my "Littles" are Freshman in High School?

I remember the days of going to the park, like, Every.  Single.  Day.  I remember filling sippy cups with juice, and filling snack bags with goldfish.  I remember watching their excitement of sliding down the Crooked House at Happy Hollow, and taking afternoon naps, and life being, well, really simple.

Don't get me wrong: I was also exhausted.  I felt like it would never end.  There were many times I thought, "If I NEVER go to the park again, I will not miss it one bit.  If I have to fill ONE more sippy cup, I am gonna jump, so help me!!!"

And then that day comes: the day when no one asks to go to the park.  The day, when they make their own lunch.  The day, when they wash and pack their own work out clothes for Volleyball practice.  The day when they leave at 7:15 AM, and do not arrive home until 6:15 PM, only to repeat it again the next day.

And I sit back and think to myself, "Ah, this is what folks mean when they say, 'In the blink of an eye, they'll be off to college.'"  Yup.  Duly noted, wise, more knowledgeable folks, than myself.  I think I may be sorta catching on.

How did this happen?  How did I grow this small people in my very body, and now, they think they can grow up on me?  NO ONE warns you.  Or perhaps, when they did, I couldn't hear it.  Couldn't possibly understand it.  Wasn't willing, or even able, to wrap my head around it.

Our family had a really fantastic summer.  Between going camping with dear friends at Big Basin, countless beach trips collecting sea shells, heading to Arnold, where Tom and I, sat out back under the stars after our day trips, and (gasp), spoke to each other uninterrupted.  And capping it off by taking a trip down south to see Ms.Molly, and T, and Ella Claire.  It was a truly superb 10 weeks.

But by the end, like many parents who are longing for routine, I felt like, "Okay, I have had enough 'family time.'  Enough hanging out with the 6 of you, constantly, for like, a week at a time.  Back to normalcy.  Back to work.  Let's get this ball rolling."

And then, came the Back-to-School anxiety.  "OHMYGAWD!!!! how are we possibly going to get 5 kids to 4 different schools on time?  What were we thinking?  Do you think we should make a flowchart?  What have we signed up for?  How is this my life?"

It is in these white knuckled moments, God shows me:  the older folks, who live in the moment, with no apparent rush, nowhere in particular to go, just relaxed with who they are, and satisfied with where their journey has taken them.  It is in these moments, God shows me: the wee ones, with their zest for life, their boundless energy, and infinite amount of enthusiasm.

And I am reminded:  pay attention to the small things.  Pay attention to details.  Listen to the whispers.  Enjoy each and every moment. 

 And I recognize how incredibly and utterly blessed I am.

If I could write God a letter, it would say:

Dear God,

You totally rock.  Thanks for being totally awesome.  And thanks for not letting Foxy kill me in my teen years, when I totally deserved it.  You seriously had my back on that one.

Love,
Michelle