Waves

I wish I knew how to add music to my blog!  Cue the sound of waves crashing on the sand.

Yesterday I was home with my boy like I am most days of the week.  He asked me to watch him put a puzzle together.  I stood at the sink, hands dipped in sudsy water, and told him, "let me just wash this first..."  Minutes later, the puzzle pieces lay scattered on the hardwood floor, but he was off in his room, playing alone quietly.  Why do I do that?  Why do I not run to him when he says, "Will you play with me?"  Why do I choose washing dishes?  I wish I had the answer.  As I washed, I regretted it, but that pot just had to be scrubbed, rinsed, and dried....  I walked across the carpet to the couch.  It still seems new, but it's been here 2 years, kind of like my boy not being a baby anymore.  He's right at 4 now.  I sat down on the couch and listened to him, playing just down the hall.  Minutes passed and still I listened.  I thought about how I should go join him.  I should run to him.  The imaginative play, taking place, is part of his growing up process, and he's growing so fast.  Yet I sat and continued to listen.  Probably 10 minutes passed, maybe more.  The puzzle pieces stayed on the floor, he stayed in his room, and I sat, listening.

I have no idea why but it made me think of the ocean, particularly waves.  How they come from way far out with a force and a jarring coolness on my skin.  Then they are pulled back out, the sound becomes a lull, until again, they crash and foam.  And it goes on ... perpetually.  And I move a distance from them, watching the inevitable crashes, not taking my eyes off of them.  They're so captivating and make me so curious and calm at once.  They're intense and loud.  I brace myself when they slap up onto my legs, knees, body.  I look around and see as much of the ocean as my eyes can see and find myself looking farther out to sea, beyond the loud crashes and consistent lulls.  And I love, love, love it.  I can't wait for the next wave to come.  That's why I'm here, to enjoy this rush, this feeling, the beauty, and the grit, too.  It's overwhelming and exhilarating.  It's not containable.

Parenting is like that.  The kids, like waves.  The moments that I can't take my eyes off of, yet sometimes I don't make myself become involved in.  And I pray that I focus out at my "ocean" more often because the big picture is actually very simple.

God has a plan.  It involves my family (husband, kids).  It is everchanging and it changes fast.

I can't capture a wave, just like I can't capture my little ones' zeal and energy today.  So, I want to do more than sit quietly and listen, because unlike the ocean's perpetual crashing and pulling back, my little family does not stay in the same place.  Just yesterday, my kids were babies.  Just yesterday.  Today, we will do that puzzle.  Picture later.