This morning, as my little women
still sleep, I am reflecting. It's a good time to do that ... while they still
sleep ... peacefully lying there ... and haven't gotten on my nerves yet!
This is a weird summer. I have to buy new clothes for my 8 year old, Libby that is
suddenly growing faster than the speed of light. She wants to wear deodorant,
fix her hair and keep fake nails on her tiny fingers that aren’t quite big
enough for the stick on nails I bought from the drug store.
At
the same time I’m juggling the transition of my precious Parker into full-blown
teenage “hood”. In a matter of days she will turn 13 … crossing some invisible
barrier. Overnight she has transformed into a … woman. She will hate that I
wrote that word, but it’s true. Every now and then I catch the “little girl” as
she twirls her hair or desires to cuddle up next to me while we are watching a
movie. But, more and more, I only see a young woman. Physically, she is a hair
taller than Addison. I no longer bend down to pick her up, have to brush the
tangles from her hair, or help her make her bed. She is an independent young
woman.
Our
family is stuck in a time warp as it relates to music. "Current" music, at least for
Chris and I, means 1970’s anything! However, our family favorite is ABBA.
When
the movie, Mama Mia, came out, my Aunt Kelly, my sister and several cousins
celebrated my birthday by seeing this musical. Fortunately, there were few
other attendees which afforded us the pleasure to sing, out loud, every song
because we knew every lyric! Now, before you judge me, I am not endorsing every
theme in this movie. I do, however, enjoy a good musical, beach scenes, and
ABBA which trumps any immoral message that was thrown into the mix.
This morning,
I thought about the following song. I
pulled it up on YouTube and cried.
Slipping
Through My Fingers, ABBA
Songwriters: ANDERSSON, BENNY GORAN BROR / ULVAEUS, BJOERN
K. / KORTNEV, ALEKSEJ ANATOLEVICH
Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home
in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while
The feeling that I'm losing her forever
And without really entering her world
I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter
That funny little girl
Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table
Barely awake, I let precious time go by
Then when she's gone there's that odd melancholy feeling
And a sense of guilt I can't deny
What happened to the wonderful adventures
The places I had planned for us to go
(slipping through my fingers all the time)
Well, some of that we did but most we didn't
And why I just don't know
Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture
And save it from the funny tricks of time
Slipping through my fingers...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YTOl70SyT-4
Time has
slipped through my hands. My first-born
will no longer carry a school bag that I have to rummage through to find her
report card. Those days are gone. She’s making decisions that I remember making
not too long ago for myself. She’s entered
into a new phase of life. She is
knocking on the door of adulthood and I still desire the sweet days of
childhood. I do try to capture every
minute … yet time doesn’t stand still. I
see her growing and changing into a person that I sometimes don’t
recognize. It’s not that this new person
is bad … it’s just different.
Different. Grown-up. Adult.
As hard as I want to freeze the picture and rewind the tape, it’s a
false reality. I can’t.
Then, as
if to satisfy my need to be needed, I turn toward Parker. However, she’s not the same either. She moves differently than the awkward little
girl I used to know. She no longer wants
to build a fort in the living room. She
needs more alone time. That funny, quiet
little girl is changing. She wants to
hang out at the mall with her friends – without me. She cooks without needing my help. She’s following her big sister’s footsteps … and
yet it’s not too far off that Libby will follow in hers. This cycle doesn’t end.
So, this
morning I listen to ABBA. As the song
lyrics go, “I watch
her go with a surge of that well-known sadness and I have to sit down for a
while.” That's where I find myself his morning - sitting down.
Despite
the tears, the heart that seems to be breaking, the sadness … I sit down and
listen to what God has to say to my heart.
I Timothy 1:12, “I know the one in whom I trust, and I am sure that he
is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until the day of his return.”
I trust
God to guard this process, my heart, and my girls little women. I am not the first to walk these waters. Plenty of sisters before me have paved this
road with their tears. It’s just my
turn. My tears pave the way for another …
perhaps even my own daughters.
Life is
such a journey … and time just slips through our fingers. I am thankful that I am not alone. I, as a grown-up daugther of my Mother, can crawl into the lap of an understanding Father ... and just sit down for awhile. I can cry if I need to. I can reflect when I want to. Time can stand still and often does. In the midst of transiton, He knows it all ... even the unspoken bits I can't even write about.
Sitting down for awhile,
Christina
