Bits and Pieces

Norah will not go down. Normally, Norah's bedtime is 7:30 p.m., but here we are at grandma's house, 9:30 p.m., and this one-year old is resisting bedtime with all her might. Flailing arms, kicking, screaming, she's giving this all she's got. And grandma and grandpa need to get up at some insane pre-dawn hour to go to work. I need quiet, and I need it now!

So I do what any parent in my shoes would have done. I strapped her in the stroller and took her for a walk. Change of scenery, fresh country air, chirping crickets. This all should put a toddler to sleep. As we walked I watched for signs of drowsiness. What I got instead was a perky little lady who delighted herself in showing me things that I had seen a million times before. She points to the pond where I used to cut cattails as a little girl, exclaiming "Guh!" She points to the neighbors horses and gives a double "Guh, guh!" and a little laugh (that's how she neighs.) As I walk, the tension of bedtime seeps out of my shoes and leaves me. It was a beautiful evening. I was sharing it with one of my most favorite people in the world. And I was being flooded with sweet summer memories of my childhood.

Suddenly I realized that this was how we learn who we are. I was sharing bits and pieces of my life with Norah. I was helping shape her little identity, just as mine was shaped when I stayed with my grandparents as a girl. Little tidbits that I picked up from watching my parents and grandparents interact became a window into another world. I learned that we were a hard-working family. We stuck together. We took joy in helping others. And we loved to make things with our hands. I also learned that families tie you down. When you're a teen-ager that's the last thing you long for. That's when you want to be free and test your own mettle. But eventually that season of life fades and you're left with children of your own, grateful to have a tied-down family as an anchor. It is a blessing to have roots, to be tied down.

And as I think these thoughts, I turn the stroller around into the bright setting sun. Surely Norah will hate this. Sun in the eyes is not high on her happy list. But as I watch her face in the golden glow I see her close her eyes against the sun. Soon she is breathing that rhythmic sleepy breath that makes my stomach climb into my heart. And I think, thank you Lord for keeping her awake so we could share this together. And thank you for my tied-down family that gives me a sense of belonging in this otherwise wobbly world.