rear view
Driving home on the freeway the other night I was thinking about what it means to be a mom. I had spent the evening helping my son out, and as I left my mind wandered. I thought about shushing him as a chatty toddler, and then missing his talking once he turned 15 or so. I thought about feeling overwhelmed when he (and his brothers) were always around, and then missing him when he was in Africa for 2 years.
It is interesting the way the tide changes.
Being a mom means loving my kids unconditionally but still having expectations. It means keeping them close in my heart even when I am supposed to let them be away from me. It is so hard to navigate sometimes.
Today I told my husband that I wish I had hundreds of specific memories about my babies. Mostly I have a few clear pictures, but lots of blurry impressions. It isn't always the details that sustain us, but the feelings the details leave behind.
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So much of our desires as a mother rest on that fulcrum between the rises and falls of our kids' lives. But how often do they stay in that perfect place, balanced, with just enough of everything to create a snapshot of "what it's all about"?
You're right; we're left with imperfect impressions, left as our kids swing first one way and then another.
I guess that has to be enough, huh?
I think that sometimes those blurry impressions are what sustain us. The reason I say that, Brendon has only been away from home for just over 5 mnths now and the things I miss the most are:
1. hearing his voice. Do I even remember what he sounds like?
2. His hugs. Oh how I miss his arms around me squeezing me.
3. Getting a good nights kiss, and hearing the words I LOVE YOU.
There are many more things I miss but the Lord has blessed me with blurry impressions so that I can enjoy the 18 or so months of service and see his growth.
I believe we have to have all these memories and feelings so we can allow them to grow so then in return we can have the chatty little toddler once again.
Interesting thoughts.
With all the kids out of my house, I find the blurred images becoming clear again.
I love the thoughts of my kids.
I love your definition.
OK, so lovely post, but I was hung up on the picture - I couldn't figure it out! I get it now, but at first it looked like you were hiding inside something? What, a trash bin? Silly Karen!
Lol. Yeah it was kind of accidentally snapped in the car at night, so I grabbed it and used it as a metaphor for nostalgia. Oh well. I try. :)
I think the evolution of memories down to blurry impressions is good. All the unimportant stuff sluffs off.
The idea of memories sustaining us is beautiful.
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