Day on the run,
Soft setting sun,
Lattice of autumn light
Fingers of God on the skies
We're well into Autumn way up here in coal country. Thanksgiving has come and gone. The vibrant leaves have turned brown and fallen, with only a few remaining to cling to the bare branches that weave an intricate black pattern when back-lit by the sunset.
There's a chill in the air. The temperature has dipped below freezing a few times already, with promises of more cold to come. The first major snowfall of the season has, surprisingly, already engulfed us and then melted within a few days.
There's a new person in our household. You may have heard about him. He arrived on a Wednesday morning, just two months ago, after twenty-eight hours of worry, stress, and sleeplessness. He was supposed to arrive on Halloween. I guess he thought it would be fun to surprise us. He started out very, very small, with a quiet little raspy voice and far more cuteness than ought to be possible.
Oh, these sights I behold
Are wonderful, true
But lullaby, baby
They don't hold a candle to you.
His tiny voice is not always so tiny any more. Sometimes he makes little talking sounds, as if he's already trying to take part in conversations. Sometimes he grunts and groans and whimpers. Sometimes he does this in his sleep. Sometimes he wails and screams as if the world has come crashing down around him and he thinks he will be left alone in the cold darkness forever. Sometimes, when he falls asleep, he makes quiet, happy sighing sounds and he breathes. Sometimes he is perfectly silent, staring at the big world around him with wide blue eyes, his mouth forming a perfect "O." It makes me wonder if he's trying to whistle, or if he's simply overawed by everything there is to see and hear.
Full moon hello,
You come and you go,
Stealing the stage from the
Stars that seem eager to shine
Oh, these sights I behold
Are wonderful, true
But lullaby, baby
They don't hold a candle to you
Sometimes, I look down at him and feel an overwhelming melancholy that is very had to explain. He reminds me that I was once a child, with fewer cares and worries. I used to spend the afternoons and evenings of this season outside, playing with my sisters, or exploring the woods alone — taking in the crisp air, the crunch and smell of dead leaves underfoot. Part of me wishes I could go back to those simple days.
He reminds me, also, that childhood is never simple. He'll grow up to face disappointment, and fear, and other children who tease him and are mean to him, and he'll probably wind up being mean to other children as well. He'll get hurt, physically and emotionally, as he grows up. I don't want that to happen, but I also know there's no real way to prevent it, because it's an inevitable part of life.
It's also not the only part of life. There's joy and beauty and love as well — after all, it's what we were made for — and I pray one day he'll know and love the God who brought him and all the other wonders of the world into being. One day he may very well be an adult with children of his own. If I give him no other legacy, I hope he at least carries with him and passes on the legacy of the faith that God, through my father and his father before him, gave to me.
It's hard to believe
But a long time ago
I was just a little boy, it's true
Who knows some day
You might be just like me
Looking down on someone like you
Mostly, though, I just look down on him and am overwhelmed with how amazing his very existence is. I marvel at his personhood, at his personality that is already starting to develop, at the way he is beginning to know and interact with us. He can't communicate with words yet, but his eyes say a lot. He looks very intelligent. Often he wrinkles up his little forehead as if he's contemplating the mysteries of the world — or perhaps how he can convince his mother to give him chocolate milk, just this one time. Every now and then, when he's asleep, he'll break into the most wonderful smile I've ever seen. Maybe he's dreaming of the day when he can have chocolate milk.
Sleepy-time boy
Peacefully dream
What must go in that little head
Nobody knows
Oh, these sights I behold
Are wonderful, true
But lullaby, baby
They don't hold a candle to you
1 comments:
those simple days were pretty sweet, weren't they. and very difficult for me to remember - but sometimes I try. fall makes me nostalgic for riding my bike while the train came by. or even that one time I ran into a tree and you carried me to the house while I wailed with blood streaming from my lip. those were better days. but it sounds like your life is pretty sweet now, too, and I'm happy for that. =)
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