Earlier this week, my sweet daughter in law texted me a picture of three of my guys sharing a meal around the table at their home. I love the pic so much, not only because I miss all those faces terribly but also because among the many things I have wished for my boys I have wanted them to be friends, to look out for one another, to value the bond of family. She and my son having my other two guys over for a home cooked meal makes me all kinds of happy.
I am sad too, just keepin’ it real. I have not transitioned well to our third son leaving home, to which my husband would probably reply is a vast understatement. I never transition well anyway, no matter the transition at hand, but this particular life change has been all the more difficult for me.
We married off our oldest son on a Saturday and it was sweet and precious and happy and beautiful, a glorious day of friends and family and celebration. I mean, it was exhausting too, don’t get me wrong, but it was altogether lovely and wonderful.
That was a Saturday and the Wednesday following we moved our third son off to school. Talk about an emotional roller coaster! I laugh and say that we tried to cram as many big life events in the smallest number of days possible. Not funny, really, but true.
It is quiet around here and much slower of pace. I am learning how to cook for only three of us which means my freezer is filling up with leftovers for future meals. The laundry takes no time at all. I tell my youngest son all the time he’s my favorite, to which he sagely replies, “You only say that because I’m the one still at home.”
Many, many years ago my husband and I were riding in the car with our very dear, very best friends. My oldest was my only and he was just an infant. In fact, if I really want to blow my own mind, I ponder the fact that the age I was then is the age he is now…
Anyway, he was a baby in an infant car seat perched in the middle of the back seat between me and my friend. The menfolk were in the front seat and we were all singing along to a cassette tape of Wayne Watson’s Watercolour Ponies.
I know, I know. I KNOW.
My husband and I, being the experienced parents in the car, you know, having all of a couple of months’ under our belts thus rendering us experts in the field, got into a discussion of our interpretation of the song. I reflected that when Wayne would sing “when it comes back to you and me” he’s meaning the responsibility of parenting lying squarely on us, the parents. You know, the buck stops here and then what will I do? My inadequacy loomed large even then.
My husband interpreted that line as a foreshadowing of the time when it would only be “you and me,” as in the empty nest, just the two of us once more. We could neither of us imagine that day, it seemed so very far in the future it blew our minds just to consider it. Certainly we had no idea at the time that we would welcome three more little ones into our home and hearts! The years of Toy Story and Bible Man and Legos and soccer and basketball and band and choir, all of that was yet to come. And after that, what?
I don’t know which Wayne meant but I do know we were both right in a sense. Motherhood has taught me many things, chiefly my own insufficiency to the task. How much I need the grace and wisdom of the Lord!
And yes, one day, sooner than I ever could have imagined, the nest will empty. My youngest son has two more years and then he will follow his brothers’ footsteps, break his mother’s heart, and leave home. Who knew it would come so quickly? And yet here we are.
I stink at transition, and I grieve change far more than I should, but I do know that one reason this is a bittersweet season for us is because we have known so much joy. So. Much. Joy. The years of the watercolour ponies were good ones.
There are watercolour ponies on my refrigerator door
And the shape of something, I don’t really recognize
Brushed with careful little fingers and put proudly on display
A reminder to us all of how time flies
Seems an endless mound of laundry and a stairway laced with toys
Gives a blow by blow reminder of the war
That we fight for their well-being for their greater understanding
To impart a holy reverence for the Lord
But baby, what will we do when it comes back to me and you
They look a little less like little boys every day
Oh, the pleasure of watchin’ the children growin’ is mixed with a bitter cup
Of knowin’ the watercolour ponies will one day ride away
And the vision can get so narrow, as you view through your tiny world
And little victories can go by with no applause
But in the greater evaluation as they fly from your nest of love
May they mount up with wings as eagles for His cause
-Lyrics by Wayne Watson