Ready or Not

On the back of my bathroom door, there is a Quaker proverb, written in my hand that says:

  "I expect to pass through this world but once.
   Any good, therefore that I can do, or any kindness I can show to any fellow creature,
   let me do it now. 
   Let me not defer or neglect it,
   for I will not pass this way again."

the flower is an orchid from a friend when I really needed it.

It is days and weeks like these past few that I can't help but pause for at least a few minutes to reflect on my life, and how temporary and fleeting our personal journeys really are.  My mind has been taken back to so many memories of past years and experiences this week, and well as pushed forward to future years and what they might possibly bring. . .


I have not been on this blog site for a couple of years, which kind of surprised me, and when I reflected on why, I remembered that what I did not write about was the all-consuming experience of watching my senior son Kaleb, for various reasons, crash physically and emotionally.  I look back on that now, knowing he will most likely never completely feel like himself again, but seeing his light back and feeling hopeful.  I think about what we learned through it, and I am reminded once again, that most life experience really is one of "equals and opposites", with intense joys and sorrows alike.
Here is a video Kaleb made describing some of his experience for a storyteller contest he entered. (I really debated putting this out there, but here it is.)

I have felt so many things these past few weeks.  The dreaded days have arrived.  I have sent, after twenty-two years of having a buddy at home with me, my youngest to first grade for the whole school day.

First day of  fourth and first grade.

Shockingly, I am still not achieving at high levels when it comes to getting the laundry folded. UGH, laundry.

 I have also sent a child to high school,

 and one to junior high,

and then yesterday, I watched Kalvin walk away from me at the airport knowing I would not see or talk to him more than four times in the next two years,

 and that when he returns he won't really be mine anymore.  At least not like he has been.

It is funny the perception that we have of what getting older will be like.  At least for me, I figured life was a progression and that "growing up" meant just naturally getting wiser and more mature.  What I did not see coming so much was that the process through which we do that "progressing", often leaves us feeling more confused, more vulnerable, and more fragile than we ever really have before.

When you have a child, they immediately become a part of you, and somehow you can't fathom that they ever weren't in your life.  And as weeks, months, and years "swiftly and silently" fly by, you establish patterns, and these patterns include waking up every morning and having your child under your roof.  Providing for that child becomes a huge part of your purpose for existing.

 And when, after several of those years have passed,  that child suddenly isn't there under your roof anymore (even though you understand in your mind that this is the natural order of things), you are left feeling confused and that physically something from inside of you - an integral piece of your self, has been ripped out and is missing, and you have no idea how to fill that void.

But you also have an overwhelming sense of gratitude for knowing that person, for the bond you have forged, and for the privilege of helping another soul navigate this life.  You have some small sense of how "sketchy" it was of God to trust you with that, but that somehow, what you did might have been enough.  And you realize that parenting is one of the most painful but best things that life has to offer.

Kevin reminded me yesterday that my dad often says that "each phase of life has great joy"

Because of that, I am able to look forward, (despite my impending decline), to good and happy things.  I have a great sense of anticipation and excitement about the people I have yet to meet in my life. Especially those people who will, through marriage, become part of our family.

And I am also so grateful for memories.  I hope that our kids and others who come into our home will remember it as a place of love and laughter.  Because those are the memories that (I know from personal experience) will sustain them in hard times.

There are lists of failings and unanswered prayers, and broken things and tears always.  (Some of which, I described in one of my blogs a few years ago.) But I am starting to understand in a small way, that even those things, the strivings and struggles, are, in their own way,  part of the bigger picture. It is interesting to start to understand how all things somehow really do work together "for our good."

Underneath the quote mentioned above, on my bathroom door, there is this picture of our family, reminding me to "cherish and enjoy"  the fleeting moments that I have with these people.

Because, "ready or not" life is marching onward, and so it is with sadness but also some gladness that I understand that I need to make the most of what I have today and be grateful for each moment
because I really never will "pass this way again."

Here is a link to our music video that I made in an attempt to freeze these kids in time while they are all still mine.  They have already changed so much.