Seeing

October 11, 2009 by Rieshy
Samuel and Jack have been taking their after-lunch nap together on my bed for several months now. Such a sweet time. I've loved having the potential disaster creators together and visible and sweetly asleep, like a couple of adorable puppies. Did I expect them to nap together every afternoon until they left for college? No... but I guess I did think time would slow a bit. Every time I get a system working, someone grows out of it.

It surprises me that the passing of each season of life continues to surprise me. It's just that the passing always seems so sudden. I've decided that my children only grow on Saturday night. It's always right before church on Sunday that I discover that so and so's shoes no longer fit, or that someone else's pants or skirt are suddenly comically too short/tight/stained. Perhaps the suddenness is actually that I forget to "see" when I look.

Here I am, writing with Sam next to me, hoping the sound of my pencil scratching will put him to sleep. Lying still, this close to Samuel, has made me realize that I don't have Samuel's face memorized to the same extent that I had all my other children memorized. Sam was 6 mos old when Jack had his first metabolic crisis. Nine months of doctors visits, lab visits, hospital stays with Jack ensued. I went for almost a year never getting more than 4 or 5 hours of sleep at night and never more than 2 hours uninterrupted sleep because of Jack's night feeding needs and Samuel's normal nursing-infant needs. I just didn't spend the same amount of time gazing and "seeing" Sam.

I feel very peaceful. Samuel is a happy little one.  This sudden knowledge that I don't know Samuel as well as I would like is not a pain in my heart but rather a glowing hope.  It gives me a chance, a reminder, to live each day joyfully as the gift it is. Writing next to a warm little body and hearing his breathing change from that of relaxation to slumber is mine for just a short season. Soon Sam will be outside, off playing in the neighborhood, and then he'll be off... But this season is still one of soft breathing, sloppy kisses, neck hugs, and chubby cheeks brushed by long eyelashes. Time still for memorization, time still to see when I look.

Thank you God.


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2 comments:

Betsy said...

They are so adorable!

Susan Tipton said...
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