Rhythms of Grace

Last week I went on vacation. I actually went on a VACATION. It FELT like a vacation. I left here here. I focused on there and on who I was with – the two most important guys in my life. It was great. We didn’t do anything spectacular. It was a pretty common sort of family trip – a few go kart tracks, putt-putt golf and a drive & hike through Smoky Mountain National Park. We rented a cabin (which was fabulous by the way – www.auntbugs.com in case you’re interested…) We slept late every morning and stayed up late every night. We ate whatever sounded good and lounged by the pool.

I had a few revelations on our trip. One was how much I’ve mellowed through the years. It’s taken 37 years, but I’m finally learning how to relax and enjoy. I’m learning – although I certainly haven’t mastered it – how to let go of those things I have no control over and accept whatever comes when it does. I think that’s a pretty crucial pre-requisite to relaxing. I’ll admit that there were a few times throughout the week that I caught my mind wandering back home to worries & concerns & the normal junk of life. But I reminded myself that I was on vacation and I let them go. Not surprisingly, they were still here when I got home, but I feel a little more prepared to deal with them now.

I realized just how materialistic this country is. There’s something about driving past 150 or so miniature golf courses, arcades, outlet malls, restaurants, souvenir shops, etc…that sort of cheapens a landscape I think. Here are these gorgeous mountains & trees and bright blue sky being all junked up with man made glitz & glitter. We visited the park the last day of our trip. We all enjoyed it the most. No matter what kind of entertainment or “beauty” we humans try to come up with, we simply cannot out-do our Creator. His beauty is breathtaking. We got only a glimpse of it last week.

I realized how much I love my family – and how safe and secure I can feel with them. I get homesick pretty easily, but not if I’m with them. They are my home. My husband is a great guy – and very wise and supportive. My son is funny and smart and pretty darn cute too. I feel awfully blessed.

So we’re back home now. Life has begun it’s usual cycle again. There are plenty of worries and concerns and busyness. I never used to understand the point of a vacation really. They seemed frivolous and a waste of time considering after a few days things have to get back to normal anyway. But I think I get it now. As I looked through the pictures today while they were printing at the store I felt a calm come over me. I remembered what it felt like to slow down and let things go for a while. So the point of the vacation isn’t just about the week or so that it lasts. It’s more about the perspective it brings to the everyday life that follows. Maybe it’s just a chance to prove to ourselves that it can be done – that it is possible to let life work itself out and to enjoy what it offers.

Thank you God for teaching me what it feels like to tangibly give up control for a few days. Now help me do it today too.

Well, it’s happened.  My little boy has discovered girls.  Oh my.  I don’t think I’m ready for this.  He’ll be 11 next month – fifth grade.  I keep telling myself that I’d had like 300 boyfriends by the time I hit 5th grade.  Understand the definition here though:  boyfriend simply meant the boy who didn’t immediately gross out when he learned that I thought he was cute.  We “went together” back then.  I think they “go out” now, which cracks me up since he’s nowhere close to being allowed to go anywhere with a girl.

I should have seen it coming, but I’ll admit it came as quite a shock to me.  For weeks now he’s become concerned with how his hair looks and what he’s wearing.  This from the boy who has no issues with wearing cut-off jeans & rubber boots all summer long.  He even brushed his teeth a couple of times without being told.  That alone should have been a clue.  But my naive little mind still thinks of him as the boy who wants nothing to do with the complications of girls – who in my defense still existed up until only three weeks ago.  Two weeks ago I learned that a girl had a crush on him.  Again – my gullible mind thought “Oh…how sweet.  Poor girl.  He won’t want anything to do with that.”  Yeah…well… Last week he was complaining, but not convincingly, about how she kept following him around at a church function.  I told him that’s because she likes him.  He responded that he knew that.  So I asked “Do you like her back?” And then there it was.  He shrugged his shoulders, turned a little bit red and said, “Maybe.”  Maybe???? Seriously???  Could you repeat that???  Are you really my son???  I honestly felt like a character in a movie.  The underscore became all ominous and everything and stuff started moving in slow motion, and kind of blurred – scary since I was driving at the time.  I took a second to try and absorb what I’d just heard and then in a moment of complete terror blurted out, “I’m not ready for you to have a girlfriend.”  Brilliant.

I’ve had a few days to get used to the idea.  She keeps calling and hanging up.  Rather annoying.  I hear her & other little giggly girl voices on the other end, and oh how it takes me back to my own childhood.  I’ll allow it for only a couple more days before I deal the mean mom card.  It has led to some good conversations with my son though.  I laid down ground rules today – no phone calls out of ear-shot of mom or dad, time limit, no secrets from me, etc… He seemed ok with that.  I don’t think it’s particularly serious on his end, but it’s the beginning of something.  I realize that.

My little boy is growing up.  It’s funny how in the process of parenting we sort of re-live our own childhoods.  I keep remembering my early romances – and heartbreaks.  There were many.  As scary as it is to know he has a “girlfriend”, it’s even scarier to think of how he’ll feel when his heart gets broken, and it will happen – if not in this relationship, then sometime.  A million questions and doubts go through my mind.  Have we prepared him for this?  How much room do we let him have?  Is it against the law to threaten an eleven year old girl who hurts your son?  And so on… The parenting books don’t prepare you for this.  At least I can’t imagine they would.  I never actually read one.  But even if they do, I’m sure they don’t do the anxiety level justice.

So he talked to his “girlfriend” on the phone today for about 5 minutes.  To my delight though, he’s played in the dirt every other moment of the afternoon and evening, so my little boy does still exist – only slightly tainted by the lure of what’s to come.  Something tells me that I’ll be encouraging the dirt playing more this summer and be far less concerned about the mess it makes.  Someone told me once that it’s a lot easier to sooth a scraped knee than to mend a broken heart.  That has suddenly taken on great meaning to me.  I’ll take the knees for a few more years please…

Long before there were blogs and email and cell phones, there were little diaries with tiny locks, notes passed discretely in class and great big corded phones attached to the wall of the kitchen. There were summers spent on that phone in the kitchen talking to my best friend who lived only a country mile from me. There were sleepovers and arguments and apologies and boys. There were mixed tapes recorded from the one good radio station. There was cheer camp, piano, singing and did I mention boys? Those were great times.

My friend and I would take turns hanging out at each other’s house. I loved going to hers. She had a cool mom who wore the same clothes we did and didn’t mind if we ate chips in friend’s room. Her house was more current than mine and all of her stuff seemed just a step nicer. She seemed to like coming to my house too, and my obsessive-compulsive mother would follow her around picking up the pieces she left behind. My friend was a bit clumsy then. I was the organized and responsible one. She was chronically late and flew by the seat of her pants. We competed at everything. We were candidates for all the same club offices, queen contests and cheerleading squads. We were in fact chosen as co-captains of the squad because everyone knew the war that would erupt should only one of us get the honor. I always thought she was just a little prettier, a little funnier and a little smarter. And the boys??? They always liked her better. But she was my best friend. That best friend that you fight with one day and defend the next. We did each other’s hair and wore each other’s clothes and dreamed about our futures together. No one could have convinced me back then that we wouldn’t always be best friends. How could anyone else possibly fit as neatly into my life as she did?

The summer we graduated from high school our families sort of fell apart. Hers moved to one neighboring county and mine to another. We were uprooted from our life-long homes and our friendship was the casualty – sort of that innocent by-stander who never knew what hit it. We went to separate colleges and our lives naturally progressed in different directions. We made new friends and married and had kids and grew up. We spoke occasionally – strained little awkward conversations- and that was it.

I had lunch with my friend today. We caught up with each other thanks to blogs and email and cell phones. We only live 20 minutes apart. We hadn’t really talked since our last class reunion. I was anxious and oddly nervous about seeing her. I didn’t want another awkward conversation. I think I was hopeful that I would maybe find my long lost clumsy best friend again. My fears were put at ease the moment I saw her. I had to laugh to myself because this time I was the one who was late and flustered and flying by the seat of my pants. She was sitting calmly outside the restaurant waiting on ME. There was nothing awkward. The conversation began and didn’t stop until we drove away. It was as though twenty years had never passed.

As I sat across the table from her today and saw the title “Dr.” on her name badge it seemed surreal. Our lives have changed so much from the days we spent sitting cross legged on her bed together discussing hair and clothes and boys and listening to Van Halen and Boston cassettes over and over again. Each of us has gone through our share of rough patches since then, and we’ve done it with new friends – different friends – the ones that needed to be there at the time. It seems like an extra special gift to get my friend back now. Now that we’re grown up. Now that we’ve gained a little wisdom. Now that we can fully appreciate what we once had.

I believe life is like a book, each chapter laying the groundwork for the next. Sometimes the characters disappear for a few chapters and new ones take their place. Sometimes there is pain and heartache and loneliness for chapters on end. But in the really good books, the ones with the happy endings, the characters are reunited in the closing chapters.

I think maybe we’re just getting to the good part.