Now You See 'Em, Now You Don't

June and July have been a bit of a blur. In recent days we have found ourselves trying to log the summer festivities. "Where were we when....? Oh, you weren't here, you were still there. Did we see them before or after our family reunion at the beach? Why wasn't I with you when...?"  But altogether we have made some great memories and, in looking back over the list of options outlined for the summer ahead, we have covered a lot of territory.  God has thrown in plenty of unanticipated bonuses, too. 

So rich were the hours. So filled with laughter and comings and goings were our days. So many steps on the stairs, giggles in the night, doors slamming and dishes clattering. So much stillness now. The quiet is deafening.  The ticking of the clock has never been louder. Even the dog sits forlorn by the kitchen door waiting and watching for the kids to come back from fishing at the lake. 

Maybe in addition to "scratch and sniff", modern technology will soon be able to recreate multi-sensory, 3-D experiences that can play back the golden moments. Could technology ever reproduce the delight of Popsicle-slurping with cousins on a sweltering summer day...the combination stink and serendipity over a hooked bass....rollicking laughter at a challenging checker game or the clinking of marbles on the game board? Could some yet-to-be device recreate virtual glee as frosty, root-beer float mugs are passed? How about conversations in "make-believe-land" and the resulting joy of Great Granpa, who crafted the decades-old dollhouses for other little girls?   Could we absorb again the wonder and awe of walking the neighborhood where our kids grew up...hear the cacophony of memories echoing at the same time grandchildren meet the creek, the old treehouse, the cul-de-sac, and the polo ponies for the first time? Could we experience vicariously once again the  rousing cheer over a strike at the bowling alley... the aroma of baked goods and culinary creations...a poolside French-toast-with-lemon-curd-and-strawberries-with-blueberries breakfast... and those delicious soft little snores from the back seat at day's end? 

A gift to myself, the photos. A gift from God, the precious memories. Here follows a photo melange of the fading family melee of summer 2015.

And then, rest with me in permission to grieve, if you've ever known the bitter-sweetness of separation because of a Love bigger than your own. The link sent below was shared by my daughter as she waited for her children on the opposite coast  after I launched them toward her at summer's end. Because she is a mother, she is beginning to understand. And because her chicks are still under foot and in her nest, she hasn't a clue.

http://clearingcustoms.net/2012/09/19/parents-of-missionaries-another-group-with-hidden-sorrow/

May she have daughters

of her own

to care

when she is old

and I am gone.

I should have loved

to care for her once more

as I did then

long years before.

I was a mother young

and she – my child.

Caring was joy. So when

she is old and I am There,

may she have daughters

of her own

to care.

 

from “Sitting by My Laughing Fire” by Ruth Bell Graham (1977, Word Books)