Regardless of my (in)ability to post as of the last…couple…years…, this has been the story of my life as of late. Sometimes an event will come along that encapsulates a lot of things going on at once, and becomes kind of the figurehead/catchall for all other events. At least this is what happens in my brain. So much so that I find myself frustrated with crafting witty introductions to posts, attempting to funnel my reader into my life, when really there’s no funnel. Just more like a belly-flop. Sorry.
I’ve just been blinking a lot, and I think I should perhaps stop, because I keep missing things. A couple of weeks ago was the end of basketball season for my son Justus. (Yes, I’m still recovering. Those of you who know, know. Those of you who don’t, …I used to be one of you. Ignorance may be bliss.) And when I say end, I mean really the end – he is a senior this year. So it’s done. It’s over. Countless hours and an even greater amount of miles travelled are…over. Late night stops at Sonic after a game, wadded up sweaty socks, hashing and rehashing of games all the way home. Statistics and bags of Skittles and nerve racking shots and sheepishly desperate prayers for a straight up, no questions asked, undeserved win. They’re gone. It’s weird even to type it, and weird that it’s weird – I’ve only been at this for three years. But I admit – I sat at the end of an empty gym after the last loss, and cried. My son emerged out of the locker room and I rose to hug him and hid my face while I laid my head briefly on his shoulder and said “Good work.” He smiled his half-smile and I saw satisfaction in his eyes. He thinks about this well. It’ll be an adjustment, but he’s on his way. As he went to speak with his father, I sat back down in the corner and tried to work through my own adjustment. Every year I can’t wait for the season to start, and every year I blink, and every year it’s over. And now it’s really over.
I just can’t tell you how much I love that boy. He is just such a good…man. I guess he’s a man now. Getting ready for college and trying to figure things out and deciding on a daily, sometimes hourly basis whether he is a man or a boy. And here it comes – this new thing. I better not blink, or it’ll be over too.
Speaking of bellies (a couple paragraphs ago), I have one. And this is the second “event” in this category. In July, I am going to have a baby. A son. I have always joked about “doing my parenting backwards,” and now I guess I am going to get that chance. I am excited about this; both me and my husband are. But I’m afraid to blink… because it will be over.I might be okay for now though, because I am still wide – eyed every time I see myself in the mirror. I hope I do all this right. Or at least decent.
Spring Break is almost upon us, and with it comes a welcome respite from teaching. I will admit, though, I really love my job. There are very few days that I don’t look forward to going in to school. In angst and occasional brilliance of students in conjunction with a daily opportunity to stand and talk until I sweat about things that are really important is more than enough to get me out of bed every morning. But I have blinked and it’s Saturday, and another week is gone. Just like that.
My husband has been speaking about what exactly happened at The Fall and the effects that we deal with now on a daily basis. And I have to admit the more I am aware of how messed up we all are, the more passages like “redeeming the time because the days are evil” and “seek first the kingdom of God” and “think on these things” all start to take on a whole new, urgent meaning. This is what real life is. To followJesus and to continually try to advance his kingdom. In basketball season and out of season. When we are very surprised by where we find ourselves in life, and when wherever we are is a perfect fit. I’m learning, like Paul, to realize that in every situation I am content. Following Jesus is where true life (the real kind I was made for) is found, and the Kingdom I am compelled to advance is where others find this life. And if I blink, it’s over.
So here it comes. All of it. At once. Don’t blink.