Respite
Well the little ducklings have both come home to roost at last. Lee and Rob were both off on adventures this past week, leaving Pam and I to remember what life was like before one occasionally stepped on (or into) something objectionable.
Rob was at camp Cherokee, the incredibly-difficult-to-get-into YMCA camp in nearby Kings Mountain state park . Pam had to go to the Y at 6 am one cold February morning to register him because all the slots are taken by 9am on the first day of registration each year. It’s not that expensive but it is really nice. When we went to drop him off the camp counselors were all cheery and happy in their Camp Cherokee T-shirts with their Camp Cherokee smiles . I had hugged him in the kitchen so as to help him avoid the mortifying embarrassment of public acknowledgement of parental affection. Pam only got to long for a goodbye as he melted into the woods in a rehearsal for the Big Goodbye to come in a few years.
And our Miss Lee went even further, to a canoe trip to the boundary waters between Minnesota and Canada. She carried (“portaged ,Dad ,portaged!”) a canoe that weighed 60 pounds , was forced to eat cream of wheat more than once (“it was like glue!”), and was deprived of proper soft drinks for days on end, but managed to have a good time anyway.
Pam and I had worked a number of volunteer events , selling various items, mostly beer, to raise the money for her to go. And so I am pleased to report the irony that part of the vast profits of the Anheuser-Busch company went to help my daughter see the world from the back of a canoe!
Of course the kids imagine that when they go away, that we parents just go back home , go into a closet , shut ourselves down and set our timers to reactivate when it is time to pick them up. That’s what we were doing before they were born wasn’t it?
So Pam and I just go home, little suspecting the transformation that is to occur. It starts subtly, with a vacuumed floor and the jelly knife going into the dishwasher and STAYING THERE. Then we find ourselves selecting better clothes to change into for dinner. And keeping our shoes on. And pretty soon the transformation is complete! We were HUMANS again.
Ever since the first little darling threw up on my clean work shirt, I have given over any hope for formality or cleanliness, for order or rationality. Given up hope for silence of more than 2 minutes.
And that is ok, it goes with the territory, I know. I am happy with family life for the most part. But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate an occasional evening out with Pam that ends with a return to a clean, quiet house. It doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a silent morning, or a neat garage, or an uninhibited conversation with my wife that actually ends uninterrupted.
But now that they are back in the house, all safe and sound, clean and well fed; I realize how much I will miss them when they are grown. We tend to long for that time But I know I will look back to these days with misty-eyed memories. I know I will wish for a peach pit under the couch when I vacuum. For a hand print on the bathroom mirror. Wish for a telephone ringing followed by a yell for a sibling that goes something like “ Hey LEEEEE, that DORK Katie is on the phone!”.
But every once in a while a little humanness is nice punctuation, in the Family Story.
Note: this story was inspired by Charles Swindoll in his essay “Someday” in the book “Man to Man” which ends with:
Yes someday when the kids are grown, things are going to be a lot different. One by one they’ll leave our nest, and the place will begin to resemble order and maybe even a touch of elegance. The clink of china and silver will be heard occasionally. The crackling of the fireplaces will echo in the hallway. The phone will be strangely silent. The house will be
quiet...
and calm...
and always clean...
and empty...
and filled with memories...
and lonely...
and we won’t like that at all. And we’ll spend our time not looking forward to Someday but looking back to Yesterday. And thinking,Maybe we can babysit the grand kids and get some life back into this place for a change.
Could it be that the apostle Paul had some of this in mind when he wrote:
...I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am (Phillippians 4:11)
Maybe so. But then again, chances are good that Paul never had to clean up dog messes!
Charles Swindoll
