Things I want to remember... DRIVING

...the way it felt to hand her the keys, and the way I slowly learned to unclench myself and just let her drive. How she was so proud of herself for parking perfectly the first two times; how I learned later that was a total fluke and she really needs practice. The time she backed out of a parking spot at the seminary, and I told her to shift back to drive and go forward, and she did it without turning the wheel… driving herself right back IN to the parking spot.

The way she switched lanes like a boss because she’s “from da hood!” and we couldn’t stop laughing.  The way she was proud of herself for letting go of the steering wheel for just a second to turn on the radio.

The way she drew confidence from other recent personal victorires: “I got this mom, I beat the Parkers in debate!”

Her siblings were desperately jealous, especially seth, barely restraining his green monster every time I handed her the keys. Their jealousy made the freedom taste even better to her; and it reminded me of the time she and Aggie learned the climb the tree in Indiana, but none of the boys could, and they would sit up high and just enjoy being out of reach while the boys fought down below.

That time I realized she does NOT need seven people telling her to stop at a stop sign, asking her the speed limit, making sure she uses her turn signal, and all voices but Mom’s were forbidden.

The way she obeys the speed limit, and everyone around her seems annoyed by that!  Her sweet CC tutor drove by her in a huff one day, only realizing later that it was Lorraine, and apologizing profusely later! The way driving on the expressway is like resisting peer pressure … and yet, the pull to keep up with the general flow is nearly irresistible.

I don’t want to forget the way it felt when I realized she’s doing fine, and I could send a text while she drove me, and suddenly I was getting work done in transit like a homeschool mom ninja.

That time Seth told her to go and she went; angry honking followed bad advice. And she got mad and frazzled (just like I do), but she kept driving, and it was a victory over emotions, when she chose focus over feelings.

The way she freaked out when she asked me “left or right?” and I said, “You tell me. I won’t always be here to give you directions.” The way we both know our conversation is a metaphor for life, and we try to get ready to embrace that next stage, even though it’s terrifying.

God, grow us up together!

roots and rest

A March day in Kentucky reminds me of a June afternoon in Michigan. I sit near a creek, the sun dances on the rushing water. If I close my eyes and lay still, stretched here on this tree, I am perfectly warm, except for the tip of my nose. 

I remember dad fishing, me on the river bank with my journal, the smell of pine trees, eating snacks packed by mom while soaking in nature and dreaming of boys, of the future, and trying to find the right words for all that filled my young heart.

I was eager to jump in a boat and follow the river then.

Today, I happily rest on this sturdy Kentucky tree branch, which is actually a giant root that juts out with others in a huge tangle and leaves me dangling over the water.  Such a lovely, still root.  

Will we get to put down deep roots here, and will they become strong and thick?

My mind travels upstream to where we have been.  From that bank on the river where my dad fished, from my childhood home, to college, to our first apartment, to babies and a house and deployments, to seminary, to more babies, to Indiana, and two more babies, and then to Eastpointe. 

I think of the resting places in each season: my favorite climbing tree as a child; the crisp woods of Northern Michigan; the arboretum in college, the fields and pond in Indiana, the wide, endless lake in Michigan. I think how I would have held tight to the ground in each of these places, and how God’s grip on me is stronger than mine on any place.

Now, I rest on thick tree roots in Kentucky alongside the creek I have come to love, just downstream from the rope swing that was a joy to the kids last summer. 

Will our roots have time to grow deeply here? 

I am no longer as eager to jump in the boat and see what’s around the next bend in the river. I like the stability of the shore, sitting on thick roots in Kentucky, even if they are not my own.

As usual, God reminds me that He is not my crystal ball. Yet He is my Comforter, and He sends the sun to warm my face, sends stillness to my body right alongside along the moving waters.

I hear Him making my next boat. I wonder how long I have until he calls me aboard?  No matter, He bids me rest and wait and live right here, and leave the planning to Him.