I know and understand that we are not all meant to be the same. I get that we were born to be original versions of ourselves, that we all have our own paths in life, that we all have our own destinies to find, and our own plan that is already predetermined and laid out for us by our Creator. I believe that wholeheartedly. However, I when it comes to those that are closest to you, you would think that we would be somewhat closer or more similar, especially when it comes to your own children.
I have four children. Yep, that’s not a typo, I did say FOUR. 4! Three boys, and one girl, the youngest. All four similar to me, yet all different in their own right.
I would be lying if I didn’t say that I wished that they were MORE like me in some respects, yet I appreciate their individuality and their uniqueness. I can’t turn them into Mini Me’s, nor do I believe that I want them to be “just like me.” As they get older, it’s difficult to try and keep them on the the same path that I am on. Try as I might, I can only do and say so much to try and persuade them to stay on course with me.
I watch and listen to them formulate their own decisions. Some I let them make on their own, others I believe they are not quite old enough to decide for themselves yet. I can put my two cents in and gently guide them back on track, or if need be, I can assert my authority as their mother and let my upper hand rule for the time being. Sometimes they look at me as if I were crazy and didn’t know what I was talking about, but for the most part, for now, they don’t resist, they just roll their eyes or cop an attitude but do as told.
I can’t control what happens when they are not in my line of vision. I can’t control their thoughts or make them do anything. I understand peer pressure and the influences that their friends may have on them. I can, however, let them know about my experiences and my thoughts on the matter and hope and pray that they make wise choices and decisions.
I worry about their futures. I stress about the things that they are or may be exposed to. I worry about the kinds of friends they may have chosen for themselves. I harp on and constantly nag them about doing their homework and doing well in school, and about doing certain chores around the house. I wonder what kind of people they will grow up to be.
The truth is … I have no control over this. I can’t determine or see the future. I can’t wrap them up in bubble wrap to shield them from life’s unfairness and harsh realities. I can’t hold on to them so tightly that they would only recoil and land farther away from me when let go.
It makes me sad to know that time is flying past me so quickly. I find myself wondering when did it happen that had to start looking up so look into their eyes? So many times I find myself wishing that I could do more, would have done more, had been more patient, took more time off. Believe me … it breaks my heart to know that my time with them is so limited. On the outside I may appear so strong, yet on the inside it takes all that I have to hold myself together when it comes to them.
This is not exactly where I was going with this blog post. I was writing this because I was thinking, and I wanted to write that sometimes I wish that my children (or at least one) enjoyed running. Mind you, I am thankful for the times that my boys have ridden their bicycles or skateboards beside me as I ran. I just feel that I spend so much of my time on foot that if they were to actually run beside me, we could spend a few more precious moments together. Alas, NONE of my children find pleasure in running … only in running away from me as I heard my Nathan jokingly tell someone recently when asked if he ran. My children enjoy swimming, baseball, football, and jump roping. I have one that loves poker, another that enjoys skateboarding, and one that I have have dubbed my “GQ” boy. But … I am NOT complaining. I would not have them any other way. I enjoy them as they are – they are their own people. A different, better, more improved version of me and their father … I love them all dearly.
It is my desire that they find wisdom eventually in my nagging – do your homework, study hard, do your chores, be nice to people, save some money, etc. I hope that they eventually learn that what I do, what I have done, I do/have done for them. And I find comfort in knowing that if I *really* wanted them to … Really, really wanted them to … I could just ask them and they would run with me … and that one run would be enough to last me a long time.
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Running Code 3 