Don’t Blink

I watch as the little boy who, days before, wouldn’t go in the deep end unless every buckle on his red Lightning McQueen life-jacket was secured and tight now swam freely. I watch as the little girl who, days before, was afraid to go in this same deep end, secured with life-jacket and Daddy’s arms, now pushed us away, swimming only with a purple noodle to support her.  And I watch as a baby who only days before spent just as much time getting out of the pool as in it made her way through the water, unafraid to fall.

And I don’t want to blink because before my very eyes they are changing, growing.  I’m afraid that if I look away for just a moment, I will miss a moment that is gone forever. If  I look away for a moment, when I turn my eyes back to them they will be older, one step closer to independence.

I want to freeze-frame, burn these images into my memory, bottle them up and take them with me wherever I go.  I want to keep my babies babies, safe in their parents’ arms.  Yet while I try to keep them within our grasp…

…I know that someday they will be ready to soar.  I will watch and hope and pray that they look before they leap, that they choose wisely, because ultimately, I know, the day will come when these choices will be their own.   And as they walk away on their path to independence, no longer clinging to my grasp, I will grab the hand of Him that promises that if I train them in the way they should go, even when they are turning away from me, they will not turn away from what I’ve taught them.

So I watch wide-eyed as they jump, amazed at how high they can soar.