I’m positive
life has gotten stuck on fast forward and I’ve lost the remote needed to slow
it down. Major and minor things have happened behind the scenes since I last
wrote. Babies have graduated and headed to college, careers have changed, trips
have been traveled, weight has been lost and gained, hair has been grown out
only to be cut way too short, planets discovered, friendships made, and
steadfast ones strengthened. There has been sickness and health, some tears,
but mainly laughter, and driving lessons. Lots and lots of driving lessons.
Steve and I
are movin’ on up to that deluxe passenger seat instructor status. We have one
successful student under our seat belt, so the second one should be a cake walk,
right? Um, yeah… not exactly. Driving with our son and driving with our
daughter are not one in the same. Learn from our naivete, people. Take notes if
you must. A good teacher will tell you that of
course each child learns differently, no matter how many times you have
taught the lesson. A parent riding shotgun while your kid discovers the brake
and the gas pedal for the first time will tell you that the sharp chest pains
brought on by anxiety feel remarkably the same, no matter how many times you
have taught the lesson. There have been
differences, of course. With our son, he very much wanted to master the art of
steering while selecting music. Our daughter is quite keen on mastering the art
of breaking the sound barrier in the church parking lot. Early on, I got in the
habit of telling our son every single time he got behind the wheel that he was
my treasure, sharing the road with other families’ treasures. I was met with
the obligatory eye roll most of the every time. I have noticed however,
when I dispense this wisdom to my daughter, she nods in full agreement. I don’t
know, maybe it’s a girl thing, maybe it’s the fact that if she agrees, she gets
mom’s car keys. Whatever, it’s all good. A good friend of mine reminds me on a
regular basis that our darling dependents have to learn these major lessons at
some point, because nobody wants their mom driving them to the senior prom.
Our kids
have given us the gift of bunions from constantly keeping us on our toes, but I
suppose that’s acceptable. It makes life beautifully vivid and gnaw-your-
nails-down-to-the-quick exciting all at the same time. Now, if I could just
find that remote to hit the pause button before she walks down the aisle, I’ll
be fine. Really, right here in the passenger seat as she steps on the gas,
speeding towards adulthood. Thank you, Lord for seat belts. And airbags. Lots
and lots of big, billowy airbags.
