In the following series of blogs, I’ll tell some of my family stories. What’s my purpose? To strike a chord with you with the thought, the hope, that you’ll remember your family stories. Better still, my hope is that you’ll tell your family stories to your children, your grandchildren, and even your great-grandchildren. It’s our stories that bind us together as family.
I’m in that season of life where the college days are winding down. Barring graduate school, we will soon have no more children in school. Period. It’s a bit hard to believe.
The early days are filled with such hubbub and activity. A new baby gives way to sleepless nights and just plain exhaustion. The first smiles and the first cry of “Daddy” tend to wipe away the weariness. But soon those are replaced by games of hide-and-seek, chase, kick-the-ball, ride-the-horsey, and lots of physical activity. (That’s why you are supposed to be a parent when you are young!)
The teenage season can be like the springtime: clouds followed by unspeakable sunshine. Lots of parents lose control around this curve. And maybe by high school it starts to calm down as some of the realities of adulthood begin to set in.
The college season is altogether different. Coaching calls and more prayer take precedence. With each step, the tethers seem to slip away—all the while mixed with the pride of seeing your baby fly.
I got a text from my adult daughter—now out of college—and herself dealing with the reality of adulthood. She asked to come over and work on pictures—putting together the stories of our life. It’s one of those tasks that you get behind on—at least too easily. But it’s there like a patchwork quilt we’ve been stitching together all this time.
And life, like that quilt, seems to whisper to me, “Remember, and cherish, your stories. Bind them up, store them, share them, and treasure them. They are the fabric of your life.”
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Published October 10, 2017
Topics: Family Legacy