This Normal Life

I once waxed eloquent on encouraging my children's passions. This was fairly easy when their passions were music and frogs. Avonlea and Grant broke me in gracefully and allowed me to set a standard that Rowan and Rose take full advantage of. Rowan sports an ATV around our property and Rose has started 4-H on her way to becoming a dairy cow owner.

My first 4-H meeting was a shock. These dairy farm people spoke in words I had no working knowledge of. They wore clothing brands I had only heard of in western books. They unconcernedly walked their heeled cowboy boots through what I knew was NOT mud. I was officially out of my depth. Yet for Rose's sake, I persisted. I actually asked for definitions, "Could you define, 'project'?" I tried not to look down when I walked the barns. I held in the up rise of vomit when they talked about listening to your cows stomach to make sure its food was always processing. I tried and I am trying because I love this girl.

Rose turned 12 last Saturday. I told her, analogically, that she was born in a field and every year of her childhood she takes a step closer to the river she must cross to become an adult. I told her, at twelve, she was standing on the edge of the water, feeling the cool waves on her feet. I explained that Avonlea is out of the river, walking steadfastly into maturity and independence. Grant is in the shallows on the other side (Rose inserts: "Slipping on the rocks a bit.") Rowan is about to his knees, just starting to feel the current's claim.

Parenting teenagers has been one of the hardest things I've ever done. To train my children to walk against the current and to swim when necessary takes all my concentration. As in actually teaching children to swim, as much as I can explain it, I can't do it for them. Only they are capable of keeping themselves afloat.

This year, Easter didn't come as a huge celebration. I realized that as I've gotten older I celebrate Easter every day. I absolutely need the resurrection power of Jesus in my life on an hourly basis. His example, His kindness, His light are the only things that keep me walking forward in hope. There is hope because He lives. He is who I hold on to when I start to sink and His is the Hand that I repeatedly put my children's hands into.

The first time I went to Hawaii, I was shameless about wearing a life jacket over my bikini in the ocean. Dave tried to point out that I was only in up to my thighs, but I pointed back that there were WAVES that I couldn't control or predict. I wanted to live. I still feel this way, so I shamelessly put on Jesus every day, knowing that even when life seems normal, waves come. I want to live. I want my kids to live, to take hold of the life that is truly life.

So I'll keep praying with them and for them. I'll ask for definitions and I'll try not to mind the poop. I'll listen to stomachs and I'll staunch the vomit and I'll give my all to what's in front of me. I'll live the daily Easter celebration in my life jacket, enjoying the ocean and never fearing the waves, day in and day out. Because this is normal life.