Things That Never Cease to Amaze Me

1. The speed at which toys move from their proper locations to the floor of a random room - not necessarily the room of origination.
2. That "classics" are "classic" for a reason - right now, I'm reading Tess of the D'Urbervilles, and while it is not likely to be a favorite, I can't put it down.
3. How long and skinny Andrew's little legs are becoming.
4. What an effort it is to get dinner on the table most nights.
5. Our dining out budget (see above).
6. How hot it is this summer.
7. The number of politicians, AC repairmen, and car dealerships who still stuff our mailbox with giant cardstock ads.
8. The way that Luke and Sarah help me sometimes without a single complaint, whether they are fetching a change of clothes for Andrew, emptying the dishwasher, or even cleaning toilets. "Mom Bucks" help, but - to my great astonishment - aren't even always necessary.
9. How high a certain Yorkipoo can jump. And how much he can chew.

But more than anything right now, how quickly we forget things, like those cute little mispronunciations that we think our kids will never outgrow, and then they do, and then we can't remember what they were... I've been trying to remember a certain thing that Sarah used to say* - I remember even worrying that she might need speech therapy at some point, but I can't think of what it was that she persisted in mispronouncing, and it's nagging me to death! Because in spite of (vaguely) considering speech therapy, we did little to correct her... it was just so darn cute! For the record, Andrew cannot pronounce "sh" and struggles with "an," so he's says adorable things like "sark," "sirt," "hay-erned," and "may-ern" [shark, shirt, hand, man]. There. Maybe I'll remember that I wrote that down here. Maybe.

It's no wonder, though, that we forget - and, I suspect, it is often a blessing - because time moves so quickly these days, racing from one activity or meal or church service or sibling emergency to another. It's nothing like it was in our twenties, years which now seem to have floated down on the lazy River of Life Without Kids, twirling slowly on large, rubber inner tubes, when we were truly carefree and - dare I say it? - often bored - bored enough, at least, to do things like watch all the Oscar movies or learn to play Guitar Hero or take our cat on walks around the neighborhood... [Yes. Those are Real Things We Did. I think I'll need a moment of silence now, in honor of the Life That Was.] 

P sometimes reminds me to make a video or write down a certain thing that we both agree we'd like to remember forever, but I find myself doubting that this is ever enough - after all, we've got something like 20 hours of video on our hard drive already.... and you, dear readers, know all too well how much time often passes between my blog entries (hello, six weeks ago!). The truth is that I have this feeble and probably naive hope that somehow these moments are indelibly recorded in heaven, like the teardrops in a jar, and that we will be free to spend eternity perusing them at our leisure. But then again, this Eternity - if it is what I believe it will be - will likely eclipse this life so entirely that our memories - so precious to us now, and so part of who we are and who we are becoming - will draw our attention even less often than all those unwatched hours of video on my hard drive.

A wise teacher once said that our lives are simply a process of learning to let go: babies grow as they begin to let go of their mothers, adolescents grow as they learn to let go of their childhood, young adults grow as they learn to let go of their childhood homes, and adults then begin the process of eventually letting go of life altogether. It sounds morbid, I'll admit, but only to the fearful (of which I am certainly one, oftentimes). However, in the context of God's love, each release is a further step towards Him, both spiritually and physically. In this process, we learn that we can trust Him with everything that is dear to us, down to our very soul. Surely our sweet memories are trustworthy with Him as well.

I'd bet anything that there's a video somewhere of Sarah saying whatever it was she used to say - but perhaps it's enough to look at her today and marvel at how she's grown, thanking God for these sweet children entrusted to us for a short period - who daily remind us of our need for Him, as well as our debt of gratitude for His richness towards us.

I guess that's something else that will never cease to amaze me.

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*I couldn't stand the suspense and was finally victorious in locating a video clip in which Sarah pronounces "because" as "we-cause," and I'm pretty sure that was the one I was trying to remember. And it was still unbelievably adorable to see her say that. Plus, I'm proving myself wrong about the value of all of that video footage....