Author: H. Baker

Ages and Stages

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I celebrated a birthday since my last post – one of those big, socially significant, decade birthdays. I didn’t really bat an eye. I went rock climbing with my family, ate seafood and shared a cake with my son-in-law whose birthday follows close on the heels of mine. It was fun. It was low-key. It was no big deal.

That’s not to say that the passage of time is not phasing me at all.

Clarissa got MARRIED recently, is about to finish nursing school and is unarguably a full-fledged, card carrying adult. She talks about bills and insurance and job interviews and eventually having kids. She’s amazing and full of all the grace, compassion and inner beauty that I could hope for. We are finding our way into a relationship as equals that adds a rich new layer to the history we have together as mother and daughter. It is different though.

Savannah will be twenty in a couple of weeks. That’s an especially strange thing to me. As long as I can still refer to an age that still ends with -teen, I can fool myself into thinking she’s still a kid. I know better though. She’s in her second year of college and her plans right now include a term of study abroad and eventually teaching English in Japan. Adventure is calling her further and further out into the world. I’m experiencing a vicarious adrenaline rush at the thought of challenges and excitement in store for her. And I already updated my passport.

So…my role? For the most part, I can set aside my duties as laundress, cook, tailor, taxi driver and social secretary. My kisses lost all their medicinal value long ago, not that they scrape knees and elbows all that often anymore. Even so, I’m still Mom. I hope that I am their sounding board, their touchstone, and their safe harbor for years to come. I hope we grow closer than ever as we pursue our dreams and walk the path God has in mind for us.

The birthday itself really isn’t that big a deal. Counting days, weeks and years doesn’t seem all that helpful. I’d rather measure my life by my faith, relationships and dreams.

Summer’s Epitaph

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I know. It’s a little early, but in my world school bells signal the end of long, lazy days much more effectively than crossing off a calendar box in late September ever will. Autumn deserves a little fanfare. Here in Texas the chimes are pealing out their message: parents, teachers, students take heed, time to reset your internal clocks from languid to brisk. Fall is sweeping in.

I scheduled some girl time with my daughters recently so we could catch up a bit before college takes over their lives. We went for a pedicure, and not one of us chose a ‘summer color’. My oldest, Clarissa, specifically said she was done with this summer. It’s understandable. She’s going in to her last semester of nursing school and is very anxious to reach a long-held goal. As a newlywed, I’m sure it feels like getting through school also takes her a step closer to settling more fully into her new life.

Savannah has also flown the nest again. She’ll be a sophomore this year and she’s going to give dorm life a try. Her roommates have a tough act to follow, since the sisters shared an apartment all of last year, but they are sweet girls and I hope my little chickadee likes campus life.

Even though tradition says fall is the beginning of the end for the year at hand, I’ve never felt that way. My long association (truly from birth) with the academic world makes me see it as a time of renewal that rivals all the revelry in January. New clothes, new school supplies, new teachers, new friends, new schools, new subjects…why shouldn’t we celebrate opportunity now instead of waiting until the cold, gray winter settles over us.

No sad farewells here. This summer has been great – a wedding, lots of rest and relaxation, time with friends and family – but another one will come along soon enough. Right now I’m ready for cool days and colored leaves and I have things to do. Hello fall!