The Years Are Short

Oh, my.

Four!

Is. So. Big.

I don't know where the time has gone. The days are long, but the years are short.

I'm trying to soak up every sweet second with this amazing little four year old person.

Walking in the parking lot yesterday, she said, "Mom, you don't have to hold my hand anymore, remember? I'm four!" I told her the rule is that you hold hands until you're twelve.

I'm reeeeally not ready for twelve. Good thing I've got some time.




How do you try to soak up the moments with your family and friends?

The Days are Long, but the Years are Short

Waking up.

Taking a shower.

Drinking my coffee.

Driving to work.

Checking e-mail.

Eating lunch.

Driving home.

Picking up Flannery from school.

These are the times today that I've thought about my sweet friend Rachel. Rachel, a friend from grad school, who just lost her sweet 4 year old daughter in a car accident on Friday. Rachel, who is pregnant with twins. Rachel, whose car rolled several times with her, her husband, and her daughter inside. Rachel, who had to bury her four year old daughter on Monday.

I just keep imagining what she must be feeling throughout her day. Waking up to the reality that her daughter is gone. Taking a shower, or not taking a shower. Walking through a quiet house. Eating, drinking, or not eating and drinking at all. I feel it all too strongly.

We're about the same age. With the same job. And girls who were about the same age. And wonderful husbands with strong faith. And on Friday, at about the same time they were driving, my husband and I left for a long road trip with our sweet daughter buckled in her car seat in the back of the car, too.

Who knows why things happen. What awful string of events led young people high on drugs to be driving the same roads as Rachel and her family. Why their daughter was lost while they were spared.

But what we do know is that loss is real. Pain is strong. And we can feel it even if it doesn't touch us directly.

The days are long, but the years are short.

Today I am treasuring these precious days and years.





If you pray, please pray for my sweet friend and her family in the next few weeks.

Take Notice

Today, I really tried to take notice of my daughter. How her hair curls up when she's sweaty. How her eyes really are yellow, not just hazel. They are so unique. How she describes conversations now, and talks about things that happened in the past with such clarity. How her body just will not stop moving sometimes. How creative her imagination is, and how gentle and sweet her spirit is. How she just can't keep herself from singing at all points in time. How she even chews her dinner to a little musical beat. How grown up and independent she is now.

We rode the Duke bus to Duke's West Campus today, and Flanna insisted that she didn't want me to hold her hand or put an arm around her on the bus. "It's okay, mom, I can do it," she reassured me. And through all the quick stops and fast turns and bumps in the road, on a big person bus with no seat belts, she really did make it just fine. Her tiny, skinny-winny body never once tumbled out of the seat, as I pictured it might every time we went around a sharp curve. (I had to catch myself about 7 times as my hands reached instinctively for her, to protect her from falling during a big curve or a quick stop! I was amazed to see she really didn't need that protecting!)

So, today, on that bus, I had to take notice of the fact that I can let go a little bit more now. Which makes my eyes tear up a bit as I write it. I just love these days of holding hands going up the stairs together, and it's sad to think about them being almost done. As Gretchen Rubin says, "The days are long, but the years are short."

We had a few other neat moments today, as well, where I was really able to be in the moment and make a connection with her, rather than thinking about the zillions of things I need to be doing for work, for our move, etc. At the park, we found some really cool pyramid shaped seed pods. We collected a few, and opened them up once we got home, sitting on our porch steps. They were like tiny amazing gifts, intricate and delicate, and resilient all at the same time. Flannery was quiet and careful and seemed a little in awe of the tiny seeds inside the pods. Then later, as we were playing blocks on the living room floor after dinner, I tried to just listen and follow her lead. Not to teach or coach or direct her in any way, just for a few minutes. And in that time, she sorted blocks by shape, color, and size. She made a really cool, almost symmetrical tower. And it occurred to me that she doesn't need my teaching all the time to learn. Sometimes, she just needs me to take notice of what she is already doing. To just appreciate the strong and sweet character and natural curiosity that she has.

Anyway.

My goal for next week is to get more sleep so that I don't have to try so hard to be in the moment! It's hard work sometimes!




What have you noticed from focusing on being in the moment in your life? Do you find yourself like me, getting so caught up in regrets of the past and hopes/plans for the future, that the present gets all jumbled and not as you'd like it to be? How do you help yourself carve out space and time to experience the present moments?


PS -- the first 2 pics here are from when Flannery was almost 2, and the last 2 are from 2 weeks ago. The change from baby to little girl is so striking!

Snuggle while you Can

Today, my daughter woke up sick. A fever. A cough. A headache.

We snuggled for three hours on the couch before she even said more than a few words.

The funny thing about that girl is that, when she wants to snuggle for more than, say, 2 minutes, you can pretty much bet that she's sick. She loves to snuggle usually, but in short bursts, in between cute dance moves and intense art projects.

So, when she wanted to snuggle, and wasn't torn away from the snuggling by some wonderful idea for an art project or some wonderful song she just had to dance to, I knew that something was up.

And the terrible thing? The horrible thing?

Is that I secretly enjoy a lazy day of my daughter wanting to snuggle all day. A sleepy day of naps on the couch together and watching endless Dora videos and old home movies.

I pray that she'll be well tomorrow. But for today, I'm going to take all the snuggling I can get with my sweet girl.

As Gretchen Rubin says, "The days are long, but the years are short."




What makes you feel better when you're sick?



P.S. These pictures are obviously not from today. They're from earlier in the week, when Flanna was feeling well. But I was tired, and who knows where my camera is, and, well, aren't they cute?