Roots

 

Yesterday for the first time in a long time I headed outside to pull weeds.  It was hot.  Too hot.  But the unwelcome little green visitors popping up between the red brick of my front steps were starting to hurt my feelings.  At first, I pulled absentmindedly aggravated at the heat and the task itself and the heat and the bugs and, did I mention, the heat?  But then I noticed that some of the little suckers were harder to pull than others, and when I stopped to pay attention, I marveled at how tenaciously some of the roots grew and reached for their life-giving source. Against all odds, a seed had somehow found itself in a tiny, mortared crack, sandwiched between unyielding masonry, and the roots of that plant stretched and strained and anchored themselves so that the leaves that were exposed and stretching for the sun could be beautiful.

We moved Cooper into his dorm at Auburn 19 days ago (but who’s counting).  Eight days later Grace had her last, first day of school.  We blinked, and she’s a senior.  And suddenly, as so many people seem to delight in reminding us, our “nest” is empty.    Now THAT will get you thinking (mainly because it’s quiet and there is SO MUCH LESS laundry to do and sometimes you can just have cereal for dinner and it’s ok which frees up SO MUCH thinking time).  And the “think” that has been most often on my mind is, “did we do everything that we could to make sure that they are ready for what comes next?”. 

And I think that’s why I paid such attention to those weeds.  Because that’s what it’s all about - giving them strong roots so that when they are exposed and stretching for the sun, they can be beautiful. 

So, once the weeds were eradicated and my body temperature returned to normal, I settled into my quiet, laundry-free nest, thanked the Lord for my little birds and then prayed for their roots. . .

That they never stop reaching for their heavenly Father, the ultimate life-giving source.

That they always remember where they came from and have the confidence, determination, and work ethic to get where they are going. 

That no matter what storms rage around them, they stay anchored in their faith, what is right and true, and our unwavering love.

That they stretch and strain and leave their comfort zone and look for ways to make this world better than they found it.

That when they are pulled in all different directions, they stay true to themselves.

That they remember that not everyone has roots that are cultivated and strong, so they should always, always be kind.

And that they find rest, shelter, and shade when they are weary and never, ever forget that they are beautiful.

Eighteen

 

A few days ago, a friend and I were discussing our children’s approaching birthdays.  Both were about to turn 18, and we agreed that it felt somehow anticlimactic.  It SHOULD be a really big deal, and yet there would be no new car parked in the driveway nor would the bouncers suddenly welcome them into the local bar with open arms.  The more I thought about it, 18 felt a lot like middle school – too old for a pirate party with goody bags but too young for the Vegas strip.  

Basically, 18 gets a bum rap. . .  Congratulations, you’re a whole adult today.  WooHoo – you can now vote for people who will either grossly abuse the use of self-tanning products or store classified documents in their corvette, and, by the way, don’t forget to register for the super-fun draft!  Cue the balloons and confetti.  

So, because I suddenly felt bad for poor 18, I set out on a quest to boost its image.  

I was going to make 18 go viral.  

It didn’t go well.  

On the periodic table 18 is the atomic number for Argon; there’s nothing exciting about Argon.  I could have worked with Titanium, and even Neon has potential.  There are 18 holes on a golf course.  18 is considered a lucky number in China.  It is also the legal drinking age there.  Coincidence?  I think not.  

And then the stars aligned and google did its google thing, and there was this:  18 pertains to great wisdom and compassion, the kind that comes from experience. This number also often symbolizes endings and indicates that you’re entering a time of closure in your life. When one phase completes, another begins, so it also brings hope and a view to the future.  

I love it.  Hope and a view to the future.  For those of us who have long since left 18 in the rearview mirror, isn’t that just exactly it?  18 isn’t anticlimactic.  It’s hope and a view to the future, and that’s something to celebrate.

Cooper,

You’ve never liked when things come to an end.  You cried your way through kindergarten graduation because you “just didn’t want it to be over”.  You love life so big, and you mourn every completed chapter with your whole heart.  18 must feel pretty big, huh?  Childhood – done.  I’m right there with you, buddy.  It hurts my heart too.  Saying goodbye to something SO WONDERFUL is hard.  But it’s not gone.  We’ll always have it – that magical growing up time of yours - it’s one of my favorite movies to rewatch.  

According to the google number guys, you are now supposed to possess “great wisdom and compassion” that you’ve gained from experience.  I think they’re probably right.  I see you.  Thinking before you act or react or speak or decide, reasoning, weighing options, evaluating consequences, anticipating outcomes, considering others – that’s wisdom.  I wouldn’t label it as “great” just yet, but you’ve got lots of time to work towards that.  And compassion?  You were sent here with that; you’ve just had 18 years to shine it up a bit.  Hold that one tight; a heart for others can fix so many things.

You’ve got a lot of big change coming your way.  Put that way it sounds scary.  But call it a time of “hope and a view to the future”?  Sign me up!   You’ve had 18 years of training wheels to get you ready for what I know with absolute certainty is going to be the ride of your life.  Don’t be in such a hurry to reach your destination – find the joy in the journey.  With every hill you top, stop for a minute to soak in the view – you worked hard to get there.  And when you blow a tire, rest confident in the fact that you have every single tool that you need fix it – we’ve spent 18 years filling up that toolbox.  

A whole adult.  Unreal.  Happy happy birthday, baby boy.  18 never looked so good (at least not since Grace turned 18, because we both know that she’ll read this and it will be a thing if she thinks that I meant that 18 looks better on you than it did on her, and that is NOT what I meant, geesh).  Now take that newfound hope and view to the future of yours and go buy a lottery ticket just because you can.  Wanna meet for a drink in China?  

I love being your mama.