Sometimes the Nostalgia is Overwhelming
Those boys. Those big boys who walk through my home. Day after day through months of quarantine. Twenty two months apart in age but a million miles apart in personality. Living with me, thank God, as we ride the waves of this pandemic. Almost twenty years of mothering these boys? How did that happen?
As children we hear adults talking about “how time flies” and we roll our eyes. Nothing prepares you for the crazy experience of looking at your child and knowing that he’s just a child, just a baby, but there he is a full grown man standing before your own two eyes. And you know him. You know he has a great head on his shoulders and an amazing sense of humor and he is truly a full grown human being who is going to be just fine in this complicated world once the pandemic subsides and he’s aloud to go on with his life.
But then those pictures pop up on your phone.
Those sweet little faces — what was that five years ago? No. Eleven. Eleven?
They were so little. And so funny and sweet and smart. And that was my life. Feeding them and getting them to school and making sure they were okay.
How did they change so quickly? How could a few short years take children and make them men?
It almost hurts. That dull pain in the center of my chest that’s ever so subtly present when those pictures pop up. My boys. My sweet little boys.
But change is the only thing that’s constant in this ever-evolving world. Nothing stays the same, even for a moment. Like the movement, of the ocean life keeps on moving and the days keep on rolling. Every wave is new, never been seen before and never to be seen again.
I stand in the surf and feel the water moving with such force around me. Waves crashing on my body as they barrel toward the shore, then pulling me with them as they return to the sea. But my feet are planted. I’m not trying to control the sea. I know I can’t stop the rolling tide, I couldn’t possibly capture a wave and preserve it, keep it safe, the same, always in my presence. It’s just not an option.
The waves are so much bigger than I am.
So I stand. Feet firmly planted on the ground. Digging into the sand that’s solid beneath the rushing waters. And as I stand, firmly rooted on solid ground, I can relax into the movement of the water. And feel every wave, every push and every pull, feeling, seeing, smelling, hearing this amazing, glorious ocean that extends farther than my imagination.
“God is our refuge and strength, a help always near in times of great trouble. That’s why we won’t be afraid when the world falls apart, when the mountains crumble into the center of the sea, when its waters roar and rage, when the mountains shake because of its surging waves.” Ps 46:1-3
And I know the river is deep
I found out that the currents are tricky
And I know the river is wide
And oh the currents are strong
And I may lose every dream
I dreamt that I could carry with me
But I have failed so many times
And You've never let me fall down alone
—Rich Mullins
Still the river floweth
Tow’rd the ocean wide;
Never languor knoweth,
Be it ebb or tide;
So, my soul, flow ever,
From thy source above,
T’ward this sea forever,
Ocean of God’s love.
—Marian Froelich (19th Century France)
