I get it.

I’ll preface this little indulgence of mine by saying that I really do get the fact that people are generally trying to simply connect with you, to share in your experience and to say “I get what you’re experiencing because I’ve been there.” Or, perhaps, they’re feeling nostalgic and, ironically, a bit parental and want to make sure you take in all that you are experiencing as a parent. But, really. I. Get. It.


So here’s how the morning went and what prompted me to write down these feelings today. Eden was awake and fed before 8 so we decided to get dressed quickly and make it to early church. Not any time to play before we left, but we’d be done before her nap so all was good.


I’m talking to her as I get her out of the car, and an older dad with his wife and daughter walks by and says looking at Eden, “From that, to this” as he then looks at his beautiful daughter, about 14 or so with high heels on and long hair flowing. To which Graham replies, “and it goes by fast.” Then, Graham ran his fingers through Eden’s hair as I held her and said, “Don’t worry, baby, you’ll never grow up.”


I was a bit blindsided, and my mind started going … “Oh, right, how could I forget, my goodness it is going by so fast. I should savor every minute with her. It’ll be gone before I know. Should she be in the nursery without me during her really fun play time this morning? Ok, don’t be silly. She’ll have fun, and church is good.”


So, we drop Eden off in the nursery and head to church. During the sermon, the preacher begins to describe the parable of the prodigal son. His focus is on the father’s response when the son finally returns home, how an artist might paint the father running to meet his son with mismatched shoes on – because he was so excited to see him that it didn’t matter what he grabbed to put on.


And, my mind starts going again … “What will it be like when Eden comes home from college? I’ll be so incredibly excited to see her. Will I know what her favorite snacks are to pick up the grocery store? Or will I call her the day before and ask her what she wants? Will she spend any time at home with us or just go see her friends? Maybe I’ll take her shopping. Yes, then we’ll spend good time together. Oops, ok, pay attention to the sermon.”


We get through the sermon, and the preacher tells one final story of a father whose son died at an early age. Five years later, the father dies and in his pocket they find a note he carried with him since the day his son passed. It says, “I see him. He’s right beside me.” – something his son said about God right before he died.


That did it. I thought of the five long years the father spent without his child, and my throat started to hurt. My eyes started to water. Before I knew it, I was trying not to cry in church.


It was like everybody in the world was telling me, “Hey, don’t forget …” … And all I wanted to say was, “People, really, I get it.”


Now, {and Graham did agree} I’m definitely not this crazy all the time. So, don’t worry about me. But if we all wore signs over our heads I think mine quite often these days would say – “Yes, I get it. She’ll grow up fast. Just, please stop reminding me.”


Today was just a weird day, and one that, in a weird way, I wanted to remember. You get it, right?


{ajb}