Four of my five kids are home, after a long two weeks with only one or two here at a time.
Fighting some kind of physical ailment since Tuesday; I had to give in yesterday when the fever arrived. Seems like some sort of flu-type thing, with congestion, coughing, aches, headache and the afore-mentioned fever and chills.
- The world didn’t end.
- I’m really, really relaxed. In spite of being physically sick, I feel like I’ve regained some emotional energy.
So if you’re serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ, act like it. Pursue the things over which Christ presides. Don’t shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with the things right in front of you. Look up, and be alert to what is going on around Christ—that’s where the action is. See things from his perspective. Your old life is dead. Your new life, which is your real life—even though invisible to spectators—is with Christ in God. He is your life. Colossians 3.1-3
Trying to look up. I think it matters.
Here’s another blast from the past; dated July, 2006, here’s a look back at what my kids were doing – and how I felt about it – three years ago. Some things don’t change a whole lot…
My children have surpassed me in experience; they have done this thing you see in the photo above (though those are some other mother’s kids in this photo – my kid took the picture). All four of the older kids rapelled down either a 40 foot or 70 foot drop while at camp this week. I’m stunned. I’m glad I wasn’t there to watch; I’d have chewed my fingernails off and peed myself, probably simultaneously.
I picked them up this morning and was initially a bit unnerved by the laid-back, old-fashioned environment at the closing assembly. Southern Baptist sponsored, it was simple and fundamental – somewhat cheesey. Lots of happy smiles and a declaration of the number of rededications and salvations read by the camp leader (Baptists love numbers, as I recall…) They sang several old worship songs, played energetically by the leaders but sung reluctantly by the campers.
However, as the morning went on, the energy level quickly rose. The power point show elicited cheers and screams as the kids had a quick tour down memory lane, and the parents and friends caught a glimpse of what they’d been doing all week, and how they’d looked doing it.
On the way home, and even after we sat down for dinner, I heard them relate every silly camp song ever sung, tales of rain storms and mountain climbing, emotional conversations, bonds with younger children, songs inspired by the week and the mountains and some unbelieveable interaction between my kids.
They have shared something together as siblings that will serve them well as they grow into adulthood. Another step towards independence, I guess; memories made and experiences shared that built strength and a committment towards one another. It’s very weird that I wasn’t there at all, only to drop them off and pick them up.
They had a great time.
Continuing to think about what matters most to me. I get so terribly overwhelmed and posessed by the day-to-day details of life and my job that I lose sight of the horizon. Derek Webb poses a great question, regardless of the subject at hand. Sister, what matters most to you?