Being That Parent

After three weeks of coughing, fevers, antibiotics, ear infections, and general all around malaise, we were eager to head for the door.  One caveat for time in the out of doors with the Faithful Five should be illness.

 

When I was a girl, I freely roamed our little piece of the Appalachian Mountains.  I climbed and hiked and explored and breathed in the earth, air, and water of my ancestors like it was my very life.  It flows deep in my veins though with six in tow I rarely get there these days.  I had long talks with the beautiful Creator as leaves crunched beneath my feet and the breeze lifted my hair.  I firmly believe if this world, as Edwards says, is just a foretaste of heaven that I will not be able to stand in the presence of the original Glory.  Glory Himself.  It brings tears to my eyes just at the thought of such a great Creator, who would give me a such gracious glimpse of himself.  I groan along with all creation, "Come, Lord Jesus.  Come."

 

I cherish the fact that my parents gave me that freedom to know creation so intimately in solitude.  And I've had to ask myself, can I be that kind of a parent? 

 

Yes.  Yes, I can.

 

This boy of mine has taken to his bike and had exceeded anything I expected and has awed me with his spunk.  He rode to the dam, twelve miles from our house. 

 

Did I stalk him just a little?  You bet I did.