Tick, tick, tick

The passage of time and it's attendant need for my participation has been a fascination of mine since childhood. I keep a calendar on my desktop, one hanging over the monitor, one in my purse and have a couple tucked away here and there just so I don't forget anything. I finally quit wearing a watch on a daily basis when I realized that life would go on without me being totally punctual.

Having said that, I must confess that my greatest pet peeve in life is being late. To anything. Anywhere. I am a creature of habit for better or worse and the idea that if I am not where I am supposed to be at a given time has always bedeviled me to distraction.

There are blissfully ignorant souls who possess the ability to float along as cosmic jetsam and flotsam in the whirlwind of activity that touches their life. I am not one of them. Instead, I find that I am a pot-stirrer who wants to control the direction and flow of my life and, in many cases, the lives of others in my circle.

Being somewhat of a control freak in certain aspects of my character can be attributed to having been raised by parents who set a particularly high standard of performance and participation. It was not in our nature to lie abed while there was work to be done.

Okay, it was not in our PARENTS' nature for us to lie abed while work was to be done. The simply believed that coddling us was not in our best interest. And they made sure that if it was our turn to do the dishes or carry out the trash that our chore remained just that - OUR CHORE. No matter how long it took us to accomplish it, they didn't step in and do it FOR us.

I have an aquaintance who is seriously concerned with her household time. She is endlessly wiping up or putting away or straightening behind her children who ignore her with elan. Instead of insisting that they do what they should, she does it because 'it will be quicker and easier for me to do it that to wait on them'. She has raised them to believe that somehow she will always be there to wipe their behinds for them and clean up after them because they 'aren't doing it right' whatever "IT" is.

I lack both the patience and the fortitude to do that for my family. Part of it is deep, down to the bone laziness that prevents me from adding to my work load in order to prevent suffering on their part. I honestly believe that gender is no obstacle to doing the laundry, sweeping the kitchen or vaccuming the bedrooms (when we have bags for the vaccuum).

Call me mean.

But the very idea of sending a child out into the world with the dizzying expectation that the maid will be there to clean up after them is a form of child abuse that receives no recognition whatsoever. It is a pernicious evil that prevents them from ever taking on their responsibilities as functional adults.

I read an article recently about parents who followed their children to college to 'take care of them during this tough transition'.

DO WHAT??!?! I have already experienced that 'tough transition' for myself, thank you very much and managed to survive.

While it is fine for kids to live at home and attend school or to go away and attend school, it is most assuredly NOT fine for Momma and/or Daddy to be there to make sure Junior or Juniette is getting their assignments done.

There is nothing like getting a bad grade to let you know that you weren't doing as much studying as you thought you were.

Or finding out on a Monday morning when you woke up late and are fishing through the pile on the floor for something that doesn't smell like it's dirty that your laundry isn't done by Hogwarts house elves (this concept certainly must be where pajama pants came into vogue for class attendance!)

Most sane people look at the passage of time and think about when they will be able to do or be whatever they have worked to achieve. Those who perpetually hope for better circumstances with no prior planning simply watch the days and hours stroke by without any real change. They become old people without ever having lived.

Our son is preparing to go on a 2 year full time mission for our church. During this opportunity for growth, sacrifice and maturity he will be in a foreign country. He is a reasonably mature young man. But there WILL be rude shocks and discoveries along the way in the process of serving the Lord fulltime.

But even if he never left the confines of our home, there would be rude shocks and discoveries. Like your work clothes don't wash themselves and your dishes don't crawl into the kitchen unaided by human hands.

He cooks because we taught him how. Admittedly, he is not a gormet chef. But the fact is what food he does prepare is good and he knows enough to make three nutritious, and reasonably well balanced meals a day for a week. Beyond that, he can learn more recipes or he can eat the same thing every week. The fact is, most of us who do cook tend to lean on a few favorites for our routine plans and try something new only occassionally.

A helpful bit of advice was given to us about his mission opportunity regarding money. "It is good for missionaries to sacrifice and do without from time to time. It builds character, understanding and helps them live by a budget." Good advice indeed. Since we live and die by our budgetary constraints within our family, he is not too young to learn that sometimes we DO have to choose between eating or having fun because we can't do both. And that is not a bad lesson to learn.

Time is passing quickly and I am looking at the calendar reluctantly now. It serves as a visible reminder that he will pass from a boy into a man on God's timetable. While we are all excited, nervous and happy for him, we are also realizing that the boy we now see (although he disputes the title 'boy' most vehemently!) is truly becoming a remarkable young man.

And though we seldom take stock of all that he has accomplished, it is definately a testament to the people over the years and days of his life that have shared something of themselves with him that has made him into who he has become and is still becoming.

Without the input of effort, concern and most of all, time - he would have missed out on a lot of those little life lessons that will help him to find his footing, not only in Europe, but throughout his life.

We do not plan to place our lives in cold storage while he is gone. Nor do we expect to cry by the mailbox or email box for the latest letter from him. Instead, we expect him to be up, about and be doing good things in the service of the Lord for his fellowman.

This time is now his. And we will be as encouraging and as helpful as we can. . . from a distance.

The truth is, that is the job description. Woeful as that may be to those pitiful parents who have followed their children around with a mop and a sponge, we are SUPPOSED to let them go and watch them fly.

I don't want to clip my son's wings.

I want him to soar.

After all, he was a Golden Eagle in high school, he earned his Eagle Scout award and now it is time to take a breath, take the plunge and expand those powerful wings and fly.

The nest can't hold him much longer.