What a week can do

The kids rode their bikes to the park today. I walked, my pace pedestrian matching Rose's training wheel speed. Last week the park was this jumbled mess of people, kids screaming and running, parents chatting, bikes whizzing by, and swimmers spilling out the pool doors chlorinated and damp.
Today, it was just us. We went to the pool and looked at the empty rectangles that were drained of fun and kids and splashing. The five of us, we stood and gaped.
Grant, as usual, commented, "I would have never dove into the deep end if I had known it was that deep!"
Ahhh the grace of oblivion. How many things I would have never attempted had I known how deep the water which I was diving into was.
We walked/rode the park paths and I couldn't help but think that soon the crunch of leaves would be under our feet. The air would smell of apples and the wind fresh scent of summer's rooms blown clean; aired.
I put my hand on Rose's bike seat as we went down the hills. She looked over her shoulder to make sure I'd got her.
"You got me mama?"
"I won't let go until you tell me to Rosy."
Ahhh the grace of being needed. I'll hold on for as long as you'll let me baby. I'll revel in the purpose of my life right now: to steady, to guide, to help.
We head back home, four little hands wave thank-yous to drivers who let us cross.
Ahhh the grace of gratitude. These little ones are learning to appreciate thoughtfulness.
The three older ones get ahead and call back, "Can we go on without you?"
I nod my acquiesce and tarry on snail pace with Rose, and I think, yes go on, just as you've learned, in grace and in gratitude. Pedal hard and fast and fearless. The seasons will change but He will remain changeless. You never need to look over your shoulders, He's there, and He will never let go of you.