Love Everlasting
“You can’t pick out the pieces you like and leave the rest. Being part of the whole thing, that’s the blessing.” When I think of the movies I’ve watched with one or most or all of my kids over the years, no list is complete without Tuck Everlasting, hence the above quote. I know, it’s a book, too. The quote is from the book. I’m not even sure if they say that line in the movie, though I watched it with Chynna the tween at least a million times. I thought, quite a bit, in fact, about kids this weekend. Once you have children, they occupy your mind for the rest of your days. You worry about them in the early moments. Is that colic or something far worse? You worry about them as teens. Where are they when you think you know? You worry about them as adults. Are they drinking enough water? Are they making sound financial decisions? You grieve over them, God forbid, when they are lost to you. Children invade every cell of your being with the hold of a vice grip and the tenacity of an angry wasp. It never leaves you. One of my children has a mom. Weird, right? And, she’s an exemplary mom, the kind that goes out of her way to pray for the stepmother (that’s me), to make sure I get a Christmas gift, to send me the dates and times for all the stuff. We were together this weekend, we two moms. “Our” boy got his Aggie ring. This is the time I worry most about the boys, this odd limbo period between being a technical man, yet still so naïve to the world. I worry that they will place money over happiness. I worry that they will allow society to dictate their definition of success. I worry that the weight the world places on a young man’s shoulders will be so very heavy. But, the two moms stood and marveled at what we had created, one of us through the miracle of birth and the other through the miracle of providence. Sure, the kid was the one trying to down a pitcher of beer faster than all the others downed their pitchers of beer, careful not to swallow that incredibly expensive Aggie ring. But, the moms – we were the ones high fiving at what we had done. We got you here, buddy. We aren’t sure how we pulled this off, but we did it. Show me a mom with a kid in college and I’ll show you a mom who deserves the kudos. That high school research paper that accounted for half the semester grade, that was all mom magic. Remember that freshman oral essay you aced? A mom prayed it to fruition and paid for all the Tums you took to calm your stomach. That fraternity pledge you wanted so badly, that was all mom power. We offered up a decade of our own life in exchange for safe and gentle hazing. We are always there behind the scenes, hoping, willing, praying, calming, encouraging, and motivating. We know we get on your last nerve. We secretly like it that way. Your colic was nearly the death of us, after all. The least we can do is be a thorn in your newly adult side.