Watching Them Fly

My kids were raised with a lot of loving touches; hugs, kisses, caresses and cuddling. Like any child they thrived on the intimacy but it surprised me in how much it nurtured me as well. Something about the unconditional exchange between a parent and child feeds the soul of both. We may have many loving relationships in our lives but there is something about the touch of your child’s hand on your face that won’t be found anywhere else.

My children are 18 and 11 now, the elder (my daughter) still hugs but with a busy life and a husband she is now my fellow adult. Her husband is loving and I know she is well taken care of, getting ample hugs and kisses. My son has begun his life as a young man and is not currently comfortable with hugs and kisses. While the hugs are rare we are close in communication.

I may, someday, have another child in my life; grandchildren, honorary grandchildren, etc. but, for now, the lack of touch can make me feel sad. Not a sadness of desperation, but more of a bitter sweet wistfulness. It’s a subtle ache which occupies a rightful place next to the satisfaction of having loved and raised a child.

It is a curious thing that children enter our lives and demand that we put our little “Me, Me, Me Party” away and take care of them. They trust us, depend on us thus lighting the dormant nurturer who hollows out a space in our hearts that only will only be filled by that child. What we don’t realize is that the fondness we develop for the touch and nearness of our children won’t expire with their independence. That space we opened up for them in our souls won’t ever close, it remains and it is part of what we unwittingly took on with our decision to raise a child. Having watched parents who bemoaned their child’s independence I swore that that would never be me. And, while I try to never pull back on my kids as they set out further from me, there is a voice inside saying, “Where is my little one?“

The most surprising aspect of all this is that it is a little painful (sometimes a lot) it feels right. My experience isn’t new; for as long as we have history, parents have been through the same thing. It’s my role to miss the little girl and boy and it’s theirs to not understand, unless or when they have children of their own. Perhaps this is how we, as adults begin to see our own parents for who they were. Perhaps we appreciate them with more depth because we get a glimpse of the intimacy they miss with us. And perhaps we understand our own value; the people our parents loved and cared for.

I was trying to think of something to write about today and then I got the following in my email. I know it's quite "chic" to hate americans right now but I don't tend to pay any attention to fashion.

You could have heard a pin drop


When in England , at a fairly large conference, ColinPowell was asked by the Archbishop of Canterbury if our plans for Iraq were just an example of empire building by George Bush.

He answered by saying, 'Over the years, the United
States has sent many of its fine young men and women into great peril to fight for freedom beyond our borders. The only amount of land we have ever asked for in return is enough to bury those that did not return.'

You could have heard a pin drop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a conference in France where a number of international engineers were taking part, including French and American. During a break, one of the French engineers came back into the room saying 'Have you heard the latest dumb stunt Bush has done? He has sent an aircraft carrier to Indonesia to help the tsunami victims. What
does he intended to do, bomb them?'

A Boeing engineer stood up and replied quietly: 'Our
carriers have three hospitals on board that can treat several
hundred people; they are nuclear powered and can supply
emergency electrical power to shore facilities; they
have three cafeterias with the capacity to feed 3,000
people three meals a day, they can produce several
thousand gallons of fresh water from sea water each
day, and they carry half a dozen helicopters for use in transporting victims and injured to and from their flight deck. We have eleven such ships; how many does France have?'

You could have heard a pin drop.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A U.S. Navy Admiral was attending a naval conference that included Admirals from the U.S. , English, Canadian, Australian and French Navies. At a cocktail reception, he found himself standing with a large group of Officers that included personnel from most of those countries.

Everyone was chatting away in English as they sipped their drinks but a French admiral suddenly complained that, whereas Europeans learn many languages, Americans learn only English. He then asked, 'Why is it that we always have to speak English in these conferences rather than speaking French?'

Without hesitating, the American Admiral replied 'Maybe it's because the Brits, Canadians, Aussies and Americans arranged it so you wouldn' t have to speak German.'

You could have heard a pin drop.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AND THIS STORY FITS RIGHT IN WITH THE ABOVE...

Robert Whiting, an elderly gentleman of 83, arrived in
Paris by plane. At French Customs, he took a few minutes to locate his passport in hi s carry on.

'You have been to France before, monsieur?' the customs officer asked sarcastically.

Mr. Whiting admitted that he had been to France previously.

'Then you should know enough to have your passport ready.'

The American said, 'The last time I was here, I didn't have to show it.

'Impossible. Americans always have to show your passports on arrival in France !'

The American senior gave the Frenchman a long hard look. Then he quietly explained, 'Well, when I came ashore at Omaha Beach on D-Day in 1944 to help liberate this country, I couldn't find a single Frenchmen to show a passport to.'

You could have heard a pin drop.

If you are proud to be an American, pass this on!

If not delete it

I Think

There are some statements, epiphanies put into words, which are so profound as to be staggering. Rene Descartes, after a search for an irrefutable statement and proof of existence, said, "I think, therefore I am". I had heard the words many times in my life but never examined them, the first time I did so, I was astounded. The very act of thought is proof of existence; brilliant.

Okay, so why do we need to prove our existence; isn't it obvious? Yes and no. If one says that the act of breathing proves you exist, that can be argued. Perhaps we learn to perceive breathing where it never actually existed, perhaps we are imagining our own breath. The parade of maybes is long.

So Descartes proved existence, who cares? I do! It isn't actually knowing that we exist which is the goal, it is the examination itself. Socrates said, "The unexamined life is not worth living" and yet, many people seem content to seldom hold their lives or reality up for scrutiny.


Socrates chose death over life in prison because it would mean being cut off from the one thing which makes anything else in life satisfying; thinking and discussing life. Even as a believer in God I examine His creation, His purpose for me, His intentions in all things. If cut off from this most engaging of pursuits life would become dull.

It is curiosity and awareness of how mysterious life can be which gives all aspects of life their color. Knowing how fragile life is gives the love for and from my children it's sweetness. Knowing how fickle fortune can be gives the blessings I have the luster of richness.

How does anyone live without questioning, searching and pondering?

Fast Forward In Just Seconds

Children mature by the second but our perception of that growth comes in spurts and moments. I have heard some people say that it happens without noticing but it isn't true.

Tonight I sat and listened to my 11 year old son discuss strategy, weakness, strengths and other fine points of video games with a teen member of the family. As I listened to his animated discourse and deft use of vocabulary I was hit with one of those moments. The moment when you realize your child is not as young as you thought he was and you wonder when it happened.

I experience these "fast forward" moments periodically and they always take my by surprise. The little boy who struggled to find anything to say to a teenager can suddenly chat with ease and confidence.

I guess the thing that makes these moments so jolting is that you realize something has passed and you can never go back. A part of his childhood is behind him and whatever made him who he was is past. A parent is forced to rejoice over yet another step towards independence but grieve quietly for the little boy who is gone.

Muttering - week 323

1. Log :: fallen tree


2. Plaything :: a favorite toy


3. Broom :: sweeping the floor


4. Heels :: the back of my feet, made for kicking up


5. Smoke in :: something people may not do to my house


6. Guests :: friends visiting


7. Attraction :: there's something about that person


8. Shiny:: pretty, I wanna see


9. Risked :: sometimes ya gotta take yer chances


10. Velvet :: aahhh, soft and lustrous

Try muttering for yourself!

Muttering - week 322

1. Road trip :: Route 66


2. Pool hall :: Trouble, right here in River City


3. Extraordinary :: Amazing


4. Jackson :: Michael


5. Heartfelt :: Sincere


6. Wet :: Dripping


7. Strangle :: Choke


8. .com :: Internet


9. Touched :: Crazy, "teched"


10. Insipid :: Shallow

Try muttering yourself, it's fun!

Muttering

I discovered muttering on a friend's blog, I think it's interesting and fun.

1. Studio ::
Art, a place of my own where I create and no one will bother my "works in progress"


2. Meetup ::
Huh? Never seen this word, assuming it's another new creation.


3. Ostrich ::
Comical bird with insanely big eyes.


4. Jokes ::
Comedic stories whose retelling can be an art form.


5. Estranged ::
Sad result of a relationship failure.


6. Random ::
Unexpected and unpredictable.


7. Slap ::
An awful thing to do to anyone.


8. Hotel room ::
Luxury, someone else will make the bed and clean the bathroom. Ahhhh!


9. Inscribe ::
To adorn a loving gift with a note of intimate sentiment.


10. Polar ::
Cold!

Try muttering yourself! http://subliminal.lunanina.com