What a day

What a day! I am sitting in the Indianapolis airport watching a little girl dance while I listen to “I Could Sing of Your Love Forever” by Delirious. Hilarious. She has a cute little blond bob hair cut. She is standing by her mom and dad. What a crazy world. This little girl has no idea who her parents are or what they will give her in the years to come. Right now, they are the apple of their eye. She will always be the apple of their eye. That is something that never changes. No matter how old you get, you know that look.

When my kids walk into my room, or I walk into wherever they are, I fall in love all over again. It’s as if, no matter what has happened, or what will come, my heart melts when I see them. I can be hurting, broken, frustrated, or even, angry. It doesn’t really matter, when I catch their eye, I see them. I see them for who God made them, even though they are challenging and not at all way I am capable of caring for raising. Such an intense emotion this thing called “love” is. Even when I am so angry I can’t formulate words, I feel this unyielding feeling of gratefulness and admiration and awe of what God has given me.
So it must have been for my dad. I am sure we disgusted, frustrated, and utterly challenged in every way known to man. But there was something about the way he looked at us, especially as he got older, that wreaked of acceptance and love. I guess we had moved far enough away that he couldn’t see our everyday reality of inadequacy and humanness. I know there were times that he just wanted to scream or yell at us, as we were adults.

The only time I remember him in any way opposing or showing any overt frustration since I have been older was at Thanksgiving or Christmas. Colin was just a little over a year. The whole family was around the table. Colin was in a high chair, and he was not eating ALL of the food placed before him. It was dessert time, and Dad said he needed to finish eating before he could have dessert. I remember very clearly saying, “You have already screwed up one generation, I am in charge of screwing up this one. I get to decide about what happens for this little one.” By “screwing up”, I meant, raised and parented. Isn’t that what we all do? We screw up our kids. One way or another we find away to mess things up. Sometimes we screw them up in a gloriously spectacular, wonderful way. Other times we screw them up in awful ways. We don’t know what we are doing at the time. We all do the best we can. I am glad my dad and mom only screwed me up this much. I know that it could have been worse.

Well, the plane will be arriving soon. I wonder if my mom is sleeping. I know that she is in a whole different world. Everything has changed. I love my mom for who she was to my dad, and who she is to me and my siblings. She is remarkable. Nobody knew the story they would write, but it was beautiful. I am glad to be a part of it.