If I linger with this reality, letting it translate into my own kiddo’s lives, I am soon discouraged, if not despondent. How can it be that all these hours of cuddling on the couch and singing before bed will be completely lost? How can it be that days at COSI and trips to the zoo and vacations to visit family will fade into still images, held inside an old, dusty scrapbook? How can it be that all the moments of spontaneous laughter and dance parties, all the fun and all the effort, will be buried in the past of my children's lives?
If I check in with the realities of my own life, my own memories, I am forced to face the hard truth that I cannot keep each moment of my children's lives alive forever. I cannot control their forgetting or ensure their remembering. I cannot get this moment back ever again. I find myself standing face-to-face with their mortality, with how absolutely out of control I am in the grand plan of their lives. And I hate it. I am reminded of these words by author Charles Whitfield, "It is hard to learn that life cannot be controlled. Life's powerful and mysterious process goes on, no matter what we do. Life cannot be controlled because it is far too rich, spontaneous and rambunctious to be fully understood, much less controlled by our thinking, controlling false self."
|please feel free to print & use this printable & share with friends! Personal use only.|
Sometimes when I write I wonder whether all the nuances of emotion that I am trying to express come through. So, I decided to try something new: readings of my posts. I promise to keep working on the quality on these, but the vocalization will give you a further peer into my heart as I wrote this.
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