I watched the skinny legs of my almost thirteen year old walk through the early morning haze as he made his way to the middle school gym. Morning isn’t his thing. Not really my thing either, but I’ve been forced to live in a world where it needs to be my thing in order to be productive and get more done.
As I watched him walk away from the car, waiting long enough to make sure that the door he pulled on was unlocked and he wasn’t stuck outside, I remembered a picture that Facebook had just showed me the day before. Eight years ago. A little fun run for kids at our church. Just weeks after the birth of my daughter.
There he stood, in that picture, straight up in almost military attention. Not sure where he came up with the pose as our family can’t really be considered a military family. Of course, what happens in that mind is certainly beyond me. I’m pretty sure he’s been smarter than me since he was five, which doesn’t say much for me, but I’m willing to concede.
If you listened closely, you could almost hear Jim Croce crooning away as he sang, “If I could save time in a bottle….” These moments are fleeting. We’ve reached that stage as parents where life is a blur. School. Meetings. Sports. Field trips. There are so many things to try to keep track of that it’s hard just to know how. It’s not like someone hands you a manual that gives you blow-by-blow instructions or troubleshooting options. Not sure exactly what the instructions might be for troubleshooting the passage of time.
I can’t think of a Fall where I wasn’t fairly introspective, this one is no different. The changing of seasons is almost palpable, in the smells, in the colors, it’s in the air. Being such a visual person, it seems that I almost need to live somewhere that I can visibly see the changing of seasons, to serve as a reminder to me that time is passing.
I always marveled at the time vacuum that is experienced in casinos. No windows. No clocks. You step in and lose time, only to find, hours later, that a chunk of your day has been sucked away from you. I think there are other places where this can happen, places where the climate never changes, where it’s sunny all year long (or rainy all year long too, I guess).
As I move into the home stretch when my son will become a teenager, the changing of seasons and time in general remind me not to blink. In the immortal words of Ferris Bueller, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” How that quote resounds deeper and louder as time marches on.
Losing your parents has a way of sharing you up, if you are paying attention. It makes you think about what you missed, what you wished you had that you never did. It’s a wake up call to reassess and adjust the way that you parent. That’s pretty much what it did for me.
I try to give my kids opportunities that I never had, not to live vicariously through them but instead to broaden their horizons. I sometimes may accentuate that they’ve got those opportunities more than I really should, but oh well.
I try to get them all one on one as often as I can, sneaking off to do simple and mundane things, for it’s the simple and mundane things that really make up life. As much as we might like to live in the big moments, it’s the small moments in life that seem to have made the biggest impact on me, the ones that I remember all these years later.
I’m doing my best to take advantage of those small moments, accentuating them. That’s not to say that we don’t have any big moments, but I’m lowering my expectations on them, knowing that the impact they have may be long-lasting, but probably not as long-lasting as the small moments.
The old cliche that no one ever got to their deathbed and thought, “I should have worked more” is still true. Time doesn’t slow down, so we had better do our best to lasso it while we can. We can lament its passing or we can do what we can with the time that we have before us. When we live into the simple moments of life, I think we begin to seize them in a way that allows for grace to weave itself through those moments.
Here’s to not blinking and seizing the moments we have before us.