I have childrenís toys in our basement. Some of the toys were Ryan and Kellyís and others are from when I taught Sunday school. I kept the toys on hand for visiting children and rarely are the toys used so I decided to it was time to find them a new home. First I got rid of all the worn out items and this filled a big trash bag. Next I gathered everything and sorted it out. I thought about friends with children and wondered if anyone would like to have these toys. Soon I had the ping pong table covered in toys. This will probably sound silly but I found a bag of glitter crayons and got sad. I love glitter crayons and I enjoy spending time with young children. Itís a chapter of life that I miss and now it was time to give away the glitter crayons and move on. I found myself paging through books where my kids had found their way though mazes, colored pages and pasted stickers. As I worked and reminisced my mood sank. It was over, my children are adults and I was closing the door to that chapter.
I wouldnít allow myself to wallow and cling to the past and I can confidently say that Maurice would never agree to me starting again having more kids so I turned away from the past and focused on a future of hope. I thought about the run I took that afternoon at the Al Foster Trail. When I started running I was thrilled to be outside in the sunshine. I ran alone and this afforded me the freedom to stop at will. Of course every time I saw water I would pause and listen. Thereís just something about the sound of water rushing by that compels you to stop. But best part of the run was along a straight bit of path that seemed to go on forever. I looked ahead and everything was a wintery brown. The trail just went on and on with the stark, bleak winter dullness. Then I looked closer and saw the little tiny bits of green. Of course I had to stop and savor my discovery-life-tiny green plants sprouting in the midst of winter brownness. As I ran further I heard a variety of birds singing, and I stumbled upon an insider secret: spring is near. We are closing winterís door and beginning a new chapter. Sort of like where I am now as a parent. I could whimper about autumn leaves turned brown now blowing away or I could embrace the tiny bits of life beginning to sprout. Life is lived in chapters and sometimes when you close one door you have to force yourself to look for something to get excited about.
the twig was brown and bare;
To-day the glint of green is there;
Tomorrow will be leaflets spare;
I know no thing so wondrous fair,
No miracle so strangely rare.
I wonder what will next be there!