You Want them to Grow Up

My friend Kristi posted pictures of her oldest this morning and talked of the bittersweet experience of having her take her kindergarten pretest, when it seemed she just started preschool yesterday. I remember those days with my children and grandchildren, and they always bring a sense of , "Where has the time gone?" On those occasions when my dreams contain my children, they are always under the age of 10, even though they are now in their 30s. I have these special memories of my life with Jennifer when she was a child. (I have special memories of Tim, also, and that will be a future blog)
"Away in a Manger" was our rock to sleep song. It wasn't limited to Christmas, it was a year-round song. Even today during Christmas season when we are together and hear or sing that song in church, we exchange a special look to remind us of those times.
There was the time when she was 2 when she stepped on a hot waffle iron (we had a very small apartment) and burned the skin off the bottom of her foot, and I had to hold her while they changed the dressing. She remembers Daddy's comforting words. Daddy remembers the lightbulb experience of glimpsing a little of how Jesus felt when he died for us.
When she was six she taught daddy an evangelistic lesson. I wanted her to get rid of an abusive friend. She was worried that no one else would tell her about Jesus and invited her to church.
Those are just a few. My blogging friends all have children this age, and their blogs are full of lifetime memories such as I've just shared.
But I have this to say to those parents (including Jennifer) who are filled with mixed emotions as their children get older: You want them to grow up.
If Jennifer hadn't gotten older, I wouldn't have the memories of our weekly lunches at Barro's when she was attending the high school where I taught
I wouldn't have the picture of her with her head on my shoulder while she was keeping stats for my basketball team.
I wouldn't have watched her coach my JV basketball team, thinking of corrections for her girls before I did.
I wouldn't have been able to watch her comfort her brother as he put our 16-year-old beagle down.
I wouldn't have sung "Heirlooms" in a duet with her at a church Christmas program.
I wouldn't have danced with her at her wedding, her head on my shoulder as the DJ played, "Can't Smile Without You."
I would have missed the bittersweet moment, getting ready to walk her down the aisle, when the soloist did an impromptu switch from "The Wedding Song," to, "where are you going, my little one, little one? Where are you going, my baby, my love? Turn around and she's tiny, turn around and she's grown, turn around, she's a young wife, with babes of her own."
I wouldn't have Jeff.
I wouldn't have Jolie.
I wouldn't have Jeslyn.
I wouldn't be wiping tears right now.
So, my 30-something friends who watch your little ones get older, let me remind you: It just gets better.