Hard to believe, but I just waved goodbye to a fourth grader and a sixth grader. They groaned a bit these last few weeks that their summer was coming to an end, but I noticed they both packed up their school supplies the first time I asked and both were up and dressed before the alarm went off this morning.
Last night as I was combing out her long straight hair, Natalie said, "I don't really want to be one of the older kids. I just don't think I have a knack for it." I had to smile. Oh, baby. Life is going to throw all kinds of things at you, some of which you will have a knack for, and many things for which you will not.
I can't slow down time to allow you to prepare, for even one more second, let alone a day or a year. It's better this way. If mommies could slow the clock, you would be forever my bright-eyed flyaway two year old, so skinny your diaper would fall off, so busy running that your super fine hair was permanently swept backwards in wings to rival Farah Fawcett's. You have a knack for joy.
I'd have missed the serious gray-eyed four year old in pink plaid overalls, sitting cross-legged and dwarfed by the big old rocker, methodically reading every book on the shelf, one after another. There were never enough books. You have a knack for knowledge.
And if I'd stopped the clock there, I'd have entirely missed my brave and shining Little Red Hen, the absurdity of the puffy costume unable to hide the sublime as your high, sweet heart sang out across the auditorium with stars in your eyes. Or your glittering pixie-dusted Wendy perching on the windowsill. You have a knack for flying.
What would I miss if I press pause just now, on my gloriously silly and smart cusp-of-young-womanhood girl? If I stop the frame and let my eyes hungrily devour the gorgeousness of the lashes that brush your still-rounded rose-petal cheeks as you lean into your drawing for Daddy, swept by the long ponytail that makes you look too grown up? You have a knack for love.
If the clock's beats lengthened, the time longer between ticks, we would appreciate the gravity of the matter even less than we do now. The precious ineffable moments would fill with trivia and dailiness just like all the others, and before we knew it we'd be on to the next act all the same. And so, with my finger hovering over the button, "I" pause... "I" stop... because you cannot. And so I realize I would not stop you if I could.
Here comes your life, my living doll... knack for it or no. Fourth grade may indeed not be your forte. I'll do all I can to support you as it marches inexorably past us on the kitchen calendar. I cross off today with my heart full. And then I'll blink and it will be time to post your annual front-porch picture again. And I will be glad, so fiercely glad, I did not stop you this year, capture you and cork you up in the bottle I have ready and waiting in my anxious doting mother-heart.
I won't miss it. I refuse to. I won't miss, you, becoming.
Go ahead, Girl. NeverLand exists for us only on the stage. I sit in the audience and watch you becoming. It is the most glory-filled thing I have had the privilege to observe in all my blessed and adventurous life. Because you have a knack for it.
Oh my goodness Lyssa...you have me all choked up! You had to be teary-eyed when you wrote this post! It's beautiful!
Posted by: Kerry McDonough | 08/28/2013 at 10:40 AM
Very sweet, Lyssa.
Posted by: Debbie Flattum | 08/28/2013 at 10:52 AM
Oh, what a beautiful post to your daughter. As a mom of two teenagers, I cried when reading this. The years go by in a flash. We can only enjoy them as they go by.
Posted by: Tammy Goldreyer | 08/28/2013 at 11:01 AM
That was beautiful, Lyssa!
Posted by: Nifferlee | 08/28/2013 at 11:13 AM
Cryin' like baby, Kerry. Not gonna lie. Life is so precious.
Posted by: Lyssa | 08/28/2013 at 11:27 AM
Absolutely, incredibly beautiful. You are surely a mother's, and a daughter's, dream come true.
Posted by: Faith | 08/28/2013 at 12:45 PM
You write so beautifully, Lyssa. Thank you for sharing your family and thoughts mixed in with your creative projects.
Posted by: Carla Blake | 08/28/2013 at 12:46 PM
You have a knack for words, my dear. I surely hope you publish something as I long to hear more from you!
Posted by: Gina Newell | 08/28/2013 at 01:23 PM
This post made me tear up, time flies by so quickly. In the blink of an eye your children are married and having children of their own. Enjoy every single minute, the good,the bad and the ugly. Life is sweet, savor it to the fullest.
Posted by: Kathy Neverman | 08/28/2013 at 02:04 PM
Awesome. And awesome scrapbook pages! I'd love to win them!!
Posted by: Mary Weiss | 08/28/2013 at 02:58 PM
So true. So lovely. So bittersweet. Having passed the front porch picture phase, I can vouch for how fast it goes. The good news is there is a vast, wonderful future ahead for you and yours. Having spent the afternoon with two of my wonderful grandchildren I can verify this.
Posted by: Anita Gattine | 08/28/2013 at 03:39 PM
That was beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with all of us.
Posted by: Brenda B | 08/28/2013 at 03:45 PM
Wonderful and beautifully captured & written. As mommy to 4 young girls life seems just too full and too busy at times and then suddenly i catch myself gasping at their changes that have somehow happened right before my eyes without me seeing. Their childhoods are so short & precious but so easy to fill with the mundane and irrelevant. Thank you for helping me stop, take a moment and marvel :)
Posted by: Lisa Barton | 08/28/2013 at 05:14 PM
I'm crying as I'm waiting at the doctor's office. they'll think it's just the pregnant hormones, but this is beautifully written, and so true. wish I could pause Miles sometimes.
Posted by: Theresa O | 08/28/2013 at 05:20 PM
Lyssa,
Absolutely beautiful. After 41 years in the classroom I retired this year. I can't begin to tell you how much I missed that "first day" joy this school year. The years go by in the blink of an eye- enjoy and cherish every moment!
Posted by: Sue | 08/28/2013 at 05:32 PM
Those cute kids sure favor their Mama.
Posted by: Donna | 08/28/2013 at 05:43 PM
How beautifully put. I too have a 4th grader and a 6th grader and feel like 4th grade might not be my youngest favorite year, but I do know that I will be there for him to watch him grow and make it a year to remember. I can't wait to see what 4th grade has in store for you daughter. I wish you both a year filled with lasting memories.
Posted by: Tonya | 08/28/2013 at 07:07 PM
Beautifully said....she's a lucky young lady.
Posted by: Linda S | 08/28/2013 at 09:39 PM
Lyssa,
Touchingly beautiful. Tears running down my cheeks. Please consider sharing this in a wider forum, you would be doing the world a favor by it's publication.
Posted by: Kathie Bakken | 08/29/2013 at 12:27 AM
So beautifully written. As the mother of 2, aged 17 and 19, I teared up too. It's all so, so true...but I still have plenty of times when I wish I could stop the clock!
Posted by: UKCraftySal | 08/29/2013 at 03:09 AM
Outside of papercrafting, one of my "other" passions is writing. You have written a masterpiece here...one that touches the heart of each and every mother who will read it. Please seriously consider publication elsewhere...it is a beautiful tribute to you and your sweet Natalie.
Posted by: Kristine John | 08/29/2013 at 08:19 AM
Oh. My. Goodness. Fantastic!
Posted by: Gale S. | 08/29/2013 at 10:26 AM
So sweet and so true:)
Posted by: Amy Stewart | 08/29/2013 at 01:34 PM
Tears... I often wish to stop time and this gives me a whole new perspective. Thank you for your beautiful words.
Posted by: Marla Reed | 08/29/2013 at 07:34 PM
You need to be published, Lyssa. When are you writing a book?? Beautiful!!!!
Posted by: Jeni Szmyd | 08/29/2013 at 09:37 PM