Here we are at the beginning of Lent, but I’m ready for spring! For Easter! Between the frozen pipes of last month, an outpatient surgery for Silas (he’s fine, it was just stressful), and some recent illness, I want warmth and health, and green things growing. But I guess I don’t have a choice but to wait. I have gotten into the habit of starting most days with some spiritual reading (lately it’s been Bread in the Wilderness and the Psalms), but starting Ash Wednesday I’ll pick up this journal which will carry me through Lent. I think I will make it to spring. (I keep telling myself this.)
Sunday was Keats’ birthday. He turned fifteen and is officially taller than Jonny now by almost an inch. I made him a cake that didn’t collapse, so that was a success. I did what a mama does, and thought to myself about Keats’ years up until now, the way he’s always been the one to stop and notice beauty, the one who used to be glued to my side (no more.) There’s something very special and even poignant about having both teenage boys and a pair of little ones. (I’m talking boys here, because I don’t have teen girls quite yet and don’t know exactly how that will go. I also know there’s a difference between the two -boys and girls- as far as the way relationships grow and change.) Having experienced the transition that happens in the teen years makes me all the more appreciative of the time I have now with Silas and Job. I treasure our little rituals, knowing all too well how fast the years will pass. I’m not as anxious to hop out of their bed at night after we read, pray, and sing songs as I was when my older boys were small. In fact, I drag it out when I can. I kiss them both over and over, all too aware of the fact that soon enough they won’t let me anymore (Ah! I’m making myself cry. Good grief.) It’s not that the teen years are bad. They aren’t. They are full of their own beauty, they’re just different. And it’s not so much about ages and the behaviors that come and go as our children grow, but the simple passing of time. I’ve always found it a little heartbreaking. I’m not sure why, but I think there will come a day when it will make more sense. I think it might have something to do with the fact that God exists outside of time. Maybe I’m just longing for timelessness… I’ve always hated change and time is always bringing it about. Then again, I’m excited to see who each of my children becomes. A paradox, of sorts.
Well, then. See why I’m ready for spring? Too many heavy thoughts this time of year. Anyway, the rain poured all weekend, not stopping till Sunday afternoon. We headed outside into the warm, windy air because I wanted to see if any of my spring flowers might be peeking through the soil after having planted hundreds of bulbs last fall. Mabel was thrilled with the wind and being able to spend a long time outside without freezing. And we found plenty of life sprouting out there! It appears that I won’t have to wait until Easter for green things growing.
I’m grateful that even as time passes and our children grow up and away, there are things we can count on staying the same. The return of the robins, daffodils and crocuses pushing up through the earth, and peepers calling out that spring is just around the corner. I do love the changing of the seasons, knowing they will each come in their own time, year after year.