"Moments"

I went to bed last night before I was ready.

You see, my two older children were still out on the prowl and I was not comfortable with that.

It all started harmlessly enough.  Kayleigh was having a friend over to spend the night. Corey was having a friend over to build a bonfire.  The four of them ended up outside, sitting around the campfire, talking.

That was cool with me and dad.

Then, as I put my pajamas on, a younger sibling "told" on them.

They were all going mud-riding on the 4-wheelers. 

Of course, as a veteran mother of five, my brain peeled back the first-aid list in my mind's eye and I mentally thumbed through the index of what could go wrong.  Goodness! it was past ten o'clock at night.  Our neighboring cow pasture across our country road had become a residential subdivision, complete with two brand-new houses.  But still...

There are mud holes and coyotes and...my greatest fear...snakes! (Which Kayleigh later told me was her biggest fear as well.  But, hey, Mom! we had the headlights on!  Gee, don't I feel better now.)

So everyone settled down to sleep and I checked my email then checked the doors then checked the dryer then checked the lights across the road then checked my email again.  Still they rode on.

And, as I waited, it hit me.  These were all young adults who had ventured away from the nest and the imposing supervision of parents.  Hadn't I raised my children well enough to know they were responsible and conscientious cutouts of myself.  My daughter was with her older brother.  She was in good hands.  As my children would have said, "Goodness, Mom! We just went mud-riding. Don't worry so much."

As far as that first-aid list, I knew chances were that nothing would happen on a night I stood at the door looking out into the dark.  It's like waiting for a pot of water to boil.  A watched pot never boils.

So I went to bed before I was ready.

And I woke up at midnight and again at one o'clock and two o'clock...to find wet towels on the bathroom floor, an open shampoo container, two lovely, young, wet-headed, sleeping beauties peacefully dreaming.  And Corey's cabin lights turned off.

The night was quiet and peaceful.  My chicks all counted, I snapped off the kitchen sink light and slept well the rest of the night.

This morning I was fortunate enough to be offered a little peek behind the curtain that shields the lives of growing children from the eyes of parents.

"Mom, Corey and I had a 'moment' last night."

"A moment?"

"Yeah, like one of those special random times that happens when you least expect it."

"Really?" my interest was definitely peaked.

"Yeah.  We were waiting for D and K to meet us and Corey asked where I was going to college.  So I told him I was going to MSU. Of course I thought he already knew but he said he thought I had wanted to go to UL.  So I said, 'Well, I did, but I'm going to MSU instead. Why? did you want me to go somewhere else?' And he hung his head and said, 'No, I was hoping you wouldn't leave.'  Then K came zooming up and spoiled the moment."

In that brief shining "moment", in that brief sharing between child and parent, I realized how cultivated relationships are between siblings.  And they are often cultivated outside the parents' gaze and interference.  I could have stayed awake until these renegades trouped into the house with muddy shirts and wet pants and I could have over-reacted and scolded and demanded that it was too late for mud-riding at nighttime.  And, had I done so, I would have missed the still-slide I was invited to see the next morning.

I looked hard at the little girl who grew up sandwiched between two brothers. When younger, the two boys formed a brotherly armlock that didn't often yield for sissy's entrance. I remembered the days I worried she'd loose her identity or get lost in the arm-lock of two brothers.  I pleaded with the boys to let her into their play and respect her as their sister.  Seven years and a half years later, God sent her a little sister.  Then another. 

Why did I worry?  Why did I fret?  What happened instead was that little girl became the butter between the two pieces of bread.  She is what holds the brothers together. She is what makes the three older siblings "stick" together. 

The conversations, the arguments, the chuckling, the elbowing, the ribbing that goes on between siblings...our children...is not always meant for our eyes, or our correction. Parents are often not meant to ride on this little yellow bus, despite our eagerness to be included in this back seat jostling.  It's a bus that takes our children across the road and into the night, skipping mud puddles, dodging tree limbs, catching lightning bugs, and shining headlights on childhood "moments" that will always escape the eyes of the ones who drive the bus. 

 

Comments

[JoAnna]

Oh my... where was the tissue warning?! That was beautiful. They grow up so fast. I feel like a brand new parent sometimes thinking about the new territory we're encountering as the kids grow up.

[Mare]

What a beautiful "moment" to be shared with us. Thank you.

[Maria Ashwell]

I always say, besides the many wonderful things my parents did for their children, one of the best was truly cultivating love between the siblings.

[Lisa]

I agree with JoAnna -- this needs a tissue warning! What a lovely testament to a beautiful relationship between siblings.

[Deb]

Oh, and what a wonderful moment!

[Chari]

Anne says recently........Matthew is my best friend........my other half.....I tell him everything.....I do not know what I would do without him......they say almost everynight: Goodnight, I love you.

And.......the last night TALKING they do........oh, my!!

They are now 19.5 and 17.5......and hang out toegther all of the time.

I SO know what you mean!

[KC]

That was beautiful, Cay.