It’s the newest “chore” added to the already growing list of chores divided up amongst the six of us who live beneath this roof. And since two of the six are rarely around, “mom-walking” usually falls to one of the other three. Last night, the task fell to Jadon, a duty in which he is more than willing to comply.
Jadon is a mover… literally. He’s not a sit-still kind of young man. Instead, his energy is constantly on display and in need of harnessing in a good and right direction. Before my surgery, Jadon would occasionally run with me, outpacing me on most occasions. As a mother who runs, it delights my heart to think that, perhaps, one of my children will share a similar affinity for the discipline. That maybe, he and I… down the road… might share in some mother-son jogs, thus allowing us the quality time together we both need and desire. But until I heal… we’ll walk.
It gives Jadon some responsibility in this new mess we’ve come to know as cancer. Cancer isn’t a single-person disease. It affects everyone within arm’s reach. Accordingly, Jadon needs a way to help me… to contribute, and since bathing is not at the top of his priority list (both for himself and for me), I gladly assign him the responsibility of “walking me.” I need not worry about a lag in conversation, because my son’s need for talking far exceeds his needing for moving. This boy can fill a pause with words. (For the record, we’re all talkers, but that’s another post for another day.) Last night proved to be no different.
From the moment our feet hit the pavement, he began with a lengthy discourse about guns. Donned in cowboy hat and gear, Jadon decorated our walk with talk about WWII machinery, his cowboy holsters, one of the latest “picks” from The American Pickers which included a training gun for soldiers. On and on he went for the first lap which morphed into a second conversation for the second lap. A conversation about sex.
I’ll spare you the details, but safe to say, any question is fair game at our house. It’s just how we roll, and in the course of another half mile, we covered genetics, dna, sex within the boundaries of marriage, ovaries and eggs, why he had “two” instead of “one,” his progression from baths to showers… on and on with barely a moment to breathe in between. As we finally rounded our last bend in the road, he looked at me with all the tenderness and kindness of a young boy in a rush for his manhood to arrive and uttered some words I won’t soon forget. He said them the Jadon way—using words that aren’t exactly what we’re used to hearing, but words that, nevertheless, give way to perfect understanding.
“I’m coming along pretty fast, Mom. Soon I’ll be as tall as you.”
Coming along pretty fast.
I don’t suppose I have to tell you what he meant. Jadon is growing up, and he knows it. He sees it… not just in his body, but in his thinking. And while his academics will always lag behind the work of his peers, even there I see growth. He’s not the boy he used to be; instead, he’s becoming the young man he was born to be. Ten years have come and gone like a flash, leaving me with a similar thought in my heart this day.
Life is coming along pretty fast.
Not just for Jadon, but for all of my children. Not just for my children, but for me as well. One day soon, we’ll all be grown up… will have reached full maturity and a season when we can look at the world from a “taller” perspective. From a place of deeper understanding and less confusion; a place of more answers and less questions.
We’re not there yet, but we can be certain that until we arrive at that “taller” moment, we’ve got a Father who is willing to entreat the burning questions of our souls. A Father who is willing to walk us around the block, to hold our hands while crossing the street, and to patiently listen as we search for the right words to connect the dots between our “here and now” and our “there and then.” And we’ll be glad for the discipline. For the walking beside him, talking to him, being with him, looking up at him, knowing that because of the time spent together, we’re closer now to resembling him then in the moments preceding our corporate time of togetherness.
That’s what happens on a walk with someone we love.
We’re shaped. We’re changed. We’re inched along in our maturing because we’ve allowed our feet and our hearts to connect along the foot path and heart of another person, and when that happens, our lives are forever altered. Perhaps not in a way that can be quickly quantified, but in less subtle ways that collect and gather over time to make a formative change in the way we view life… do life.
Life is coming along pretty fast. And if we’re not careful to notice its advent, we’ll miss some of the glorious moments that serve as our precursors to fullness. Like Jadon, we may long for our next big leap of maturity; like Jadon, however, most of us forget that that leap won’t happen until some personal steps of faith are taken beneath the watchful gaze and care of a parent’s love… a Father’s love.
It’s a walk I’m taking today. A walk around the block with my Daddy. And I don’t imagine there will be much pause in conversation. I’ve got a lot of words in me, a lot of questions as well. Mostly, I just want to be with him. I want a few moments with Jesus to call my own where other distractions are kept at bay and where I can have him all to myself. Really, I think it is what all children crave… a time of meaningful dialogue between them and their Father.
Life is coming along pretty fast, friends. Better catch a walk with Jesus while you still can so that he can better shape you for his eternity. And should you have a slot open on your schedule where you can come by and “walk me,” then all the more. I love doing life with you! As always…
Me in her; her in me.
{I love my kids… front yard PR!}
