Running in Circles

I have three children who have the same age differences as my parents' first three children. As I watch my little ones, I am often reminded of my childhood with my sisters: when play was our main occupation, summer was a time to be bored, and the calendar was just a paper with squares on it.

My dad drove a track into the weeds in our back yard so we could run races. I was the oldest, but my sister (who was 3 ½ years younger than me) was actually hard to beat. The youngest of our trio was always trailing behind, calling for us to "WAIT!" This sister wasn't fun to play "tag" with either. If we ran away too fast, she would cry. If we tagged her, she would cry. If we didn't tag her, she would cry.

But she was very sweet. When I was five and she was a plump baby she would snuggle with me. I remember holding her and wishing I could always remember how good it felt. I always have. This is saying a lot because I only remember a few things from when I was five.

Our Grandfather's funeral brought us together recently. After the luncheon, my sister and I headed down a dirt road to play badminton with our family. The sun was shining on our backs, the fresh mountain air tasted good, and we all felt at peace about Grandpa. All of a sudden, our younger sister was pretend-running up the road behind us, calling "WAIT! WAIT!"

It's funny how a moment like that can warp me back in time twenty-five years.

Only this time, we laughed, waited for her, and then walked together.

Transitions

When I hear the word, "transition," I usually think of childbirth and the three most painful moments in my life. I know everyone is different, but for me, transition is the most difficult part of natural childbirth. It happens very soon before the most wonderful part: the part where the baby is born, fresh and sweet.

I hear a lot of parents talk about the transition from having one child and then two, and then from two to three. Some say it is most difficult going from one to two children. They say after giving all of the love and attention to one child, it can be complicated to divide it between two. Others say that going from two to three is hardest because you only have two hands. I am wondering if going from three to four may be even harder because we would have to buy a larger vehicle (I wish someone would invent a double/triple carseat so I could fit four kids in the back seat)!

For me, the transition from one to two children was smooth because my oldest was three-and-a-half. She understood, for the most part, what was happening. And she was ready for it. Although it was hard for her to be second in line so often, it wasn't long before the baby had grown big enough to play with her. We learned that transition happened before the most wonderful part: sisterhood.

The transition from two to three was more complex because my second child was only eighteen months old. The day after the baby and I came home from the hospital, I panicked when I was laying down with my eighteen-month-old at nap time and the new baby began to cry in the next room. I knew if I left, my nap-needing toddler would not stay in bed. I worried to myself, "How am I going to do this?" Then I realized that as long as the baby was fussing, I knew he was okay. And again the transition happened just before something wonderful: In a matter of minutes, they were both sleeping soundly.

And so it goes in life. How often I have seen that something difficult is then followed by something wonderful! The darkness and cold of night are followed by a sunrise and the warmth of the sun. A devastated cry is followed by the release of pent-up emotions. For me, years of infertility were followed by grateful mothering. And how can we forget that resurrection followed the crucifixion and tomb?

When I was a kid, my daddy always told me that the bad times would help me appreciate the good times. I have learned that he was right.

This weekend, I will go to the funeral of my grandfather. It is sad to know I will not see him again in this life. But deep down I know that death is only a transition into the next life.

I think one of the greatest things mortality teaches us is how to love Heaven when we get there.

My Hate/Love Relationship With Life

________________________________________

I hate:

static in my hair, clothes, or coat
itches that scratching won't fix
fingernail snags
cracked fingers & feet (the story of my life)
uncorralled shopping carts (I think the coin deposit carts I saw in Finland are smart)
ironing (I almost put this on the next list, because I hate it less as time goes by)
when I go to check on what's cooking and the heat escaping the oven melts my mascara

I don't like:

book covers (the kind that come on hardcover books--I always chuck them)
loud eating (By the way, I married a man who is certifiably among the loudest. I used to have earplugs in the kitchen drawer! It doesn't bother me as much now. I think I've gotten used to it.)
lip gloss (my hair always gets stuck to it)

I still haven't made up my mind about:
orange marmalade
sore muscles after exercising
my body

I like:

laundry & dishes (good thing!)
freckles
good books
good movies
Star Trek (but not the new movie)
crocheting

I love:

my family, my husband's family, & our family
forehead wrinkles on a newborn
snow
sweets
toddler giggles
the smell of wood burning in the fireplace
Christmas
dimples
the way a bath curls my babies' hair (and then makes their heads soft and fuzzy like a baby chick)
autumn
friendship
pictures/scrapbooking
LOVE

How about you?