A Father's Love

The other night, my wife and I were walking out of Walmart and saw a father with two young children.  Just before he left the store and went out into the cold night, the children both looked up at their dad and raised their arms above their heads, looking for comfort from the cold and icy conditions.  He bent down and scooped them up and carried them in each of his arms. Watching the man carrying two children, Coralee looked at me and said, "I remember those days."

We both reflected on how quickly time has passed since our children were little.  Days seem to pass more quickly now and it is so easy to get caught up in the crazy and hectic routine that is our lives presently.  It isn't often there is time to slow down and reflect on those days of early parenting.  I speak as though the best memories have passed, but memories continue to be made everyday.

Watching this father caused me to reflect on tender moments.  Our youngest is nearly eight years old.  Our oldest is nearly 18 and he is making preparations for college and serving a mission.  This Christmas will be our last with all of our children under our care.

As parents are living in each moment, the challenges are sometimes overwhelmingly exhausting and are not generally considered the proverbial, "best days of your life."

• We are challenged daily with the encouragement of getting homework done.  This is usually not well received and we constantly get push-back.
• We walk into bedrooms to find piles of laundry that have not been folded or put away.  Where they continue to find clean clothing to wear is still a mystery.
• We are constantly picking up books from the floor, with their spines facing upward and pages spread outward in opposite directions.
• Remnants of cereal and potato chips litter the floor from the cabinets to bedrooms.
• Empty packages of chocolate chips and granola bars are found stuffed in pillow cases and under beds.
• A simple task of putting something "away in its proper place" is often found just a few feet away shoved under couches or in drawers.
• Children torment each other.  If you ask what I say to them most often, they will say, "get along with each other.  We don't live with each other for very long."  They've heard this so often, it no longer has meaning and is just chanted prior to wrestling a brother to the ground.
• There are sleepless nights with our Type 1 Diabetic daughter.  
• Nobody has mastered touching the piano keys lightly.  Every song is played with 'power and authority'.
• Lamps are often knocked off of tables.  Walls are always in need of patching and painting.  Doors are slammed.  Voices are elevated.  Blame games ensue and accountability is often hard to find.
• Once the kids are home from school, a marathon of events begins:  piano lessons, work schedules, band performances, piano recitals, church activities, scouting activities, dance classes and recitals, chores, friends are over to "hang out".  Many events happen simultaneously and dinner is miraculously done within 20 minute windows of these events.  

I love Alan Jackson's song, Remember When.  Some of the words resonate with me, particularly:  Remember when the sound of little feet was the music we danced to week to week.  

There is rarely a quiet moment at our house, but one day soon the noise within our walls will fade away.  

I love the glimpses into the future of the men and women my children are becoming.  I love the conversations with my oldest sons.  The hugs from my children who are still  young enough to give them.  I love the smiles and the laughter.  I love tucking them in at night and the softly spoken "love you's" as I turn off their lights and close their doors.  

Those bedrooms will one-by-one be vacated and the sheets won't be changed as often.  The piles of laundry will disappear.  The piano will only be played softly by my darling wife who has shared this wonderful life with me.  I imagine we will laugh often with our fond memories as we say, "I remember those days."