Saturday, July 19, 2008

My Only Hope

We were in Target tonight looking around for gifts for Lex (it's her birthday on Thursday; she's going to be seven). Gentry had his eye on a toy, and, as usual, was building his case.

"Dad," he said as we walked down an aisle, "have we been good today?"

"Well, Bubs, you did whine quite a bit today."

"OK; but," Lex chimed in, "for example: were we kind today? Did we share with others? THAT'S what he's talking about."

I chuckled. She's having a tough time learning to ride a bike. Bubs has it down pat; he's extremely coordinated and athletic, like his mother. Lex is like me. I think I was six before I learned to ride a bike; I was picked last on every sporting team in elementary school; I still can't catch.

But she's sharp. I think she might be destined to be a politician. I choose, now, not to engage her, because she's developed multiple lines of circular reasoning that even I have a hard time arguing against. So I head her off at the pass. I imagine, if I'd chosen to respond affirmatively to her "for example" tonight in Target, she would have went on to point out how, as well-behaved children, they ought to be rewarded in some small way (a candy bar, perhaps).

They amaze me in so many little ways. Gentry, for example, grabbed a greeting card off the shelf in Target tonight, hid it behind his back, and said, "Dad. Do you know what's on this cawd?"

"No. What is it Bubs?" I responded.

"You have to guess."

"Um...is it a...chicken?"

"Daaaddeeee!" he laughed, throwing his head back like he does, as if I've just said the most humorous thing he's ever heard.

He pulled the card out from behind his back.

"It's a CUCUMBOW," he said, holding out a card shaped like a pickle.

A cucumber. I can never remember whether a pickle is made from a cucumber or a zucchini. But he knows. I know it's not a huge deal, but it's those little jolts of surprise that make parenting the joy that it is.

It's the little indicators that, despite all your failings and insecurities; despite your feelings of hopeless inadequecy, they still are developing. And they're developing well.

I took most of those pictures in the slideshow at the bottom of the prior post. I sat there in that audience, and I felt that feeling, that indescribable feeling.

It's hope. It's you looking at what you've made of you, at all the dreams that haven't yet become a reality, at the poor choices you've made, at the stupid misakes you've made. And then looking up, to see Lex singing:

"You're my brother, you're my sister;
So take me by the hand..."


in the microphone, looking out, squinting at the spotlights, trying to make sure I'm watching.

Or Gentry, singing by himself in the microphone for the first time ever:

"When we all pull togethow, togethow, togethow;
When we all pull togethow, how happy we'll be.
Fow youw wook is my wook; and ouw wook is God's wook.
When we all pull togethow, how happy we'll be!"


at the top of his lungs.

And realizing, as you look up and see them there, that maybe--just maybe--you might have got THIS just a little bit right because it seems to be working. And maybe it's OK that I didn't quite get it all exactly right; if I can just make sure I get THIS right, then I'll be happy. Because I can help them become everything that lies dormant inside them.

I sat there, and something inside my chest swelled up into my throat, and I couldn't breathe, and tears came to my eyes. Not because it was "so cute", although it was. But because I'm getting it; I'm teaching them right, showing them the right paths. And they're going down them.

It's one of my few consistent prayers: God, help me continue to get it right. They're my only hope.

3 comments:

Nan said...

That is sooo...Sweet! It brought tears to my eyes too!
Sometimes I get that feeling, like, am I doing anything right. In fact, I had one of those times last night. I'm not going to say any more right now! This post has inspired one of my own. Check later at "The Eccles".
Love ya!

Mother said...

This may be the reason that everytime your Dad hears you and Deanna sing he crys. And how every time I watch you lead a worship service, or sing and hear your sister sing a special in church I get weak legged and have to sit down. Your Dad and I still pray everyday for both you and your sister to keep following the paths that we showed you as children. I know there is much more in both of you still to be seen. Your Dad and I are VERY proud of both you and your sister. Keep following the paths your were shown.
Love Mother

Anonymous said...

You again have tugged at my heart with your blog. I do get to read them a little more often now that I'm home all day. I think you are truly used of God and have a wonderful talent.

You both have two wonderful kids and we hope you will come and see us again soon.

Love ya

RUTH