February 13, 2008
A Filled-Up Life
Monday was Caleb's birthday. He is eight years old now. That morning I made breakfast for the family, and then took him to work with me. He did school work at the table in my office, and I did my own work at my computer. He finished first, because he is smarter than me, and a more diligent worker. So he took out a Lego spaceship kit that he got from his great-grandmother, and he put it together. After that, he built a hangar out of office supplies, and then built a paper airplane for me, to keep in the hangar. They're on my desk now, though Caleb is at home, busy being an eight year-old, doing schoolwork and reading everything he can find and getting bigger by the second, so big that soon I won't be able to pick him up and carry him to bed at night.
When we finished working we went to lunch, and then to Target so I could buy him a pencil sharpener he's been wanting. On the way into the store, he walked beside me, and even though my hand was dangling near his arm, he didn't take it the way he used to do when he was a little chattering boy. Now he is a big boy, and he doesn't need to hold my hand so much any more.
They keep getting older, if you're lucky, and so do you. Soon they don't need you to hold their hands or make their sandwiches or say their bedtime prayers with them. Soon you have all the quiet time you ever wanted, hours and days and weeks of it, interspersed with an occasional phone call, if you're lucky. Soon they are grown and they are gone.
I have years and years left with them, and I am sure they will grind me down to dust before the last of them leaves, but sometimes I am sad when I think about an empty house. I am happy too, in a way I didn't expect, because I know one day each of them will have his own house full of youngsters. They will crawl into his bed at all hours, and make messes and fill every room with giggles. He will toil and fear and laugh over each of them just as I have over my own children, and there is nothing better on earth.
I would give them anything, because their happiness is mine, and so I am happy when I think about their houses full of children, because I know that no matter what I do to make them smile now, there is an incomparable joy awaiting them, the joy of their own children. It almost makes it worth letting them go, not that I have a choice, which is probably best, selfish as I am.
That's a lot of philosophizing for an eight-year birthday, more than I did on my 40th. It's warranted, I suppose, because while I am simple and shot through with weakness, they amaze me. They come out so small and defenseless, and before long they are throwing crotch-level tackles and asking impossible questions, and healing wounds I didn't even know were there. We look far and wide for miracles and even rumors of miracles, and forget the miracles among us, the small lives that God is either foolish or hopeful enough to trust us with.
I've had eight years with Stephen Caleb, and five with Timothy Eli, and three with William Isaac, and less than one with Isaiah John, and I've not appreciated the time as I should. Let me appreciate the years to come. Let them be many, a great many, and forgive me for the time I've wasted. Forgive me for overlooking these miracles.
We could fill up a life with thank you and forgive me, couldn't we? I imagine we should say both every day.
Posted by Woodlief on February 13, 2008 at 10:51 AM
I love this. My oldest (of 4) is six years old. The other day he and I hopped out of the car and started walking into our church for piano lessons, and he grabbed my hand while we chatted about Star Wars and other cool stuff like that. I wondered then how much longer I have before he stops holding my hand when we're walking together. And then how long do I have to wait before he'll hold it again someday? It's bittersweet, isn't it? Thank you for this today. I needed it.
Posted by: Renee at February 13, 2008 11:38 AM
Posted by: Ronald Cox at February 13, 2008 12:34 PM
8 years! Has it been that long? Congratulations to all of you.
And your observations are right on. I have two grown daughters, with college degrees, still at home. I don't appreciate it enough. I'm not longing for those wedding bells, because I know, at least a little, what that means.
Keep sharing with us.
Posted by: Mike at February 13, 2008 1:03 PM
My oldest is 19, youngest 6, with an 8 in between. All boys.
Tony, great advice as always. Don't beat yourself up though; this is our lot in life, to fail to appreciate our kids while they're young and then punish them for it later by spoiling their kids. ;-)
I figure as long as we sometimes realize we're failing to maximize our appreciation of all the good things we have, we're way ahead of all those who never, ever stop to examine their lives and how quickly it all goes past. So we try, and tomorrow, we try again.
Posted by: Jeff Brokaw at February 13, 2008 2:23 PM
This post makes me excited to be a father, even if it is 5-10 years away. I can't even form words very well after reading this.
It gives me hope for the human race.
Posted by: Evan Kincade at February 13, 2008 5:37 PM
Ah yes....thank you Lord. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. 24/7, thank you.
Posted by: Aunt "Nisey" at February 13, 2008 9:15 PM
Happy Birthday, Oldest Son of the Horde. :)
Posted by: MMM at February 14, 2008 8:26 AM
My oldest is 18 and about to graduate high school. It hardly seems possible that my oldest son is a man now. I always enjoy your writing, Tony. This story is very poignant and touching. It reminds me to enjoy the time I have left with my children before they're grown. Thanks so much!
Posted by: Ken Larson at February 14, 2008 9:13 AM
Some pleasures are fleeting and all the more precious for it. It brings a lump to my throat as I hold my 4 year old grandson in my lap, knowing that such snuggles will soon fade to memories.
Happy Birthday Caleb.
Posted by: Jeff Bucchino at February 15, 2008 9:01 PM
They do grow up so fast.
Now our house is empty of our two. Sometimes I wonder did we do all we could do to equip them for this world. The answer is no, of course. But we have to rely on our heavenly father to fill in our gaps.
And I try not to blame myself for my failures as a father, but instead thank Him for his grace and wonder. Thank you, Tony, for this reminder not to forget the everyday miracles around us.
Posted by: Paul Gilmer at February 16, 2008 8:46 PM
As I write this comment this morning I am setting here waiting for my youngest son to arrive with his two small children (Meghan is 5 and Alex is 3). It is President's Day and he has the day off and we are going someplace like a museum or a play land to just enjoy these precious little children. My sons are 40 and 37 now and I find it hard to believe how fast the years have past by.
My only advice to you readers Is to enjoy your children to the fullest. However, if you are fortunate when your children are grown they will provide you with precious little grand children who you can cherish as life passes away. Believe me that will be the time of your life.
Posted by: Larry Lee at February 18, 2008 12:31 PM
Oh!
Oh! Oh! Oh!
I think you might have just said it all.
Brilliant.
Posted by: Stefani at February 22, 2008 12:01 AM
As if to give me a second chance, God has arranged to have all four of our children nearby. This allows us to have "Sunday Dinner" (lunch actually) together, to review the Sunday School drawings, occasionally see the eyes of a son-in-law water as he describes a point driven home by the sermon, have large helpings of Bobbi Sue's kitchen delights, and, if I have not mis-scheduled something, enjoy a nap with one of my eight precious (and very noisy) grandchildren, in "Papa's Big Chair."
Yesterday I was just drifting off, when Landon (age 2 1/2) looked up and said "I Love You Papa."
My eyes began to water, as I wondered what ever I had done to deserve such wealth. The answer is Nothing.
I Love You, Abba - Father!
ron
Posted by: Ron Williams at March 24, 2008 2:23 PM
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