Forever Young

Noah catches me staring at him often.  And sometimes sneaking pictures.

But I still can't believe my boy has gone from baby to grown in the blink of an eye.

I wish someone told me how fast time flies.  Like really told me.  Life goes by so much quicker than you imagine.  Because in my mind, he's still a rambunctious, rowdy, spunky toddler running through the house, superhero cape flapping behind.  Well, some things never change I guess -minus the cape.

I'm sure no matter how old he becomes, I'll always see a mixture of childhood mingled with man.

About a moment after snapping the photo above, a pillow went flying through the air toward my head.  (He thoroughly dislikes having his picture taken.)  Yet amazingly, a few days later, he actually sat and smiled for a pic.

I reminded him we hadn't taken a good photo of his healed tattoo.  Still proud to show it, he gladly paused and let me.

A tattoo in honor of his big brother, representing everything he stood for...baseball, band and being a firefighter.  And of course, Austin's life verse - 1 Timothy 4:12.

first tattoo

 Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, 

but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity.

Noah's first view

After many drawings, revisions, discussion and final artwork by the tattoo artist, we're all happy with the end design.  Noah most of all, who moments after seeing it, breathed, 

"I've wanted this for so long."

I'm sure there are some who think he's way to young for a tattoo.  And in some cases, I would agree. But this wasn't a rash decision made by an inexperienced youth. 

Sadly, he's been envisioning this tattoo for nearly eight years.  He went with both his dad and me to watch us get memorial ink. For years, he's shared his desire to have one of his own.  He wanted our blessing and we were by his side every step of the way.   He now has a tangible piece of Austin looking over his right shoulder.  

My prayer, when he looks at the black and grey lines, is that he remembers the pattern and mark Austin left behind.  That he'll recall the happy memories they shared more than the pain of loss.  And that he will, in turn, share with others the legacy of Austin.  Age is just a number.  Anything is possible, achievable, no matter how old - or young you are.  But whatever you do, live your life to bring glory to God.

Austin will always be forever young.  He may have left us too soon but lived more in his 14 years than most do in a lifetime.

Noah lives each day with the same passion and drive.  He never doubts or questions if he can do something, especially when others might think age is a factor.  I know Austin would be proud of his little brother.  We certainly are.  

I hope he continues facing life forever young - full of ambition and excitement, eager to learn, willing to be an example to others, ready to face the next chapter, whatever it holds.

Who Turned on the Tears?

Nobody told me that upon turning 40 a never-ending faucet of tears would occur.  
At any given moment.  Often, for no apparent reason.

It's not that I've been crying about the fact that I am older but rather anything and everything else. Tears can fall for something heartfelt or ridiculous without my ability to control.

I've always been a crier but in my pre-40 days it was typically when I was angry.  This, of course, made me angrier, as it is hard to appear strong and mad when you're a blubbering mess.

The combination of tears hasn't boded well with my effort to wear more make-up in this decade either.  I splurged recently and purchased a few new things, when it dawned on me I hadn't replaced any of my cosmetics two jobs ago.  Yikes!  Remembering my cosmetologist friend's warnings and her wrinkle-free face, I decided it was time to be a grown-up and take better care of my skin.  Irony would see a giant blemish appear on my chin the week of my birthday.  Nice...

Over the past two weeks I can't quite recall all the random times I've cried; however, as I was mopping up flood after flood the thought did cross my mind to write this post.  I do remember looks of horror and disbelief from my family many times.  More than once this month, I've caught Noah glancing my way with a face that yells, "What is happening to my mom!?"

This morning was no exception.

On the way to school, it hit me that this was the last time I'd drive my baby to school.  My inner-self began braking in sync with my foot, as I pulled into the turning lane for morning drop-off.  No! Stop. This can't be so.

Monday is a holiday, Tuesday his 16th birthday.  We have a strict agenda to be at the clerk's office 8 am sharp that morning.  So this was really it.  My final daily task of dropping him off.

The last time.

Tears began streaming and it was all I could do to hold back sobs at the knowledge.  It resulted in an ugly cry.  And it was right in front of my soon-to-be-sixteen-year-old son.

"Are you ok?" he asks, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I manage to shake my head, trying to focus on the now blurry officer waving me on.  Ever the jokester, he tries to lighten the mood.  I chuckle and try to joke back but it doesn't really work, although it is long enough to distract me to get him out the door.

And then the tears continue.

Where did the time go?

Please excuse me while I grab a tissue...

Sharp Dressed Man

The night before graduation I called Noah on my way home to see if he was ready for his chiropractor appointment.

"Yea, and Mom....what do you think about stopping and buying a suit on the way home."

A suit?  From the boy who thinks shorts, a muscle T, and a baseball cap are appropriate attire for just about anywhere?  Who wears shorts literally 365 days out of the year, if he can get away with it?

A suit!

I chuckled and honked, signaling I was in the drive.  In record time we needed to make three stops now, two of which he just sprung on me.  First to the barber, to get his curly hair trimmed back before the big day.  Fully thankful he was trimming the fuzz ball that was growing on head, but wondering how I'd cram this unexpected trip in before his chiropractor closed.

Normally, I wait in the car.  It is after all a room full of testosterone.  This time though he tossed me that puppy dog face that gets all things and asked if I were coming in.

The fact that I know someday he'll not want Mom to accompany him to trips like this and because I was already welling up thinking about graduation, I agreed.  Entering the shop, I got my usual, "Hey Sis!" from the owner and settled in between auto magazines and sweaty guys and fidgeting boys.

Our next stop was a late stop to his chiro, where I slid into the parking lot on two wheels.  I despise being late.  If I'm on time, I'm late.  And this time, I was ten minutes late, even though we called.

From the lobby I can hear Noah replaying my interactions with his doctor.

"Mom was freaking out because we were late.  Fr-eak-ing out...."

I chuckled again.  This kid.  I love him.

And last, but certainly not least, the new store in town that sells, of all things, suits.  He heads for the tux ordering booklet and I sweetly explain that is for another milestone down the road.  We turn to the row of suits, and he spies the price tags.

"Are you kidding me?  Just for a coat!?," backing away he says, "It's ok Mom, I can just wear my Easter shirt."

Because I know how hot-natured my son is and that he seems to grow an inch or two a year, I was somewhat thankful he was reconsidering the idea.  But I did want to treat him to a new dress shirt.  Again, this boy's boy does not change out of his joke attire willingly.  So this momma was taking full advantage of playing dress up with her sweet son.

Pointing out a few shirts, I mentioned not knowing his neck size.  Strange looks came from his face signaling he had no clue you bought dress shirts this way.  Smiling, I had him try one on but it wouldn't attempt to close around his giant throat.  As I looked for a bigger size, he spied a tie.

"If I can't do a suit Mom, I should wear a tie.  I feel like really dressing up tomorrow," he says swinging the black and white spotted fabric.

"Sure," I tell him, "We can do a tie."  And I hand him a bigger size to slip on.  This one fits!

Those pesky water holes begin to fill on my face and I scrunch up my nose, then make a quick joke to help them subside.  My word, he looks so handsome.  And so grown-up.  My baby....

As he slings the tie around his neck he spies the price tag and again offers to leave it behind.  I point out that it's 1/2 off today and this deal-shopping momma has a coupon on her phone.  We can do this.

And I'm so glad we did.  Because this young man is a heart breaker in a tie.

Faithful Friday: Fly Little Bird

Graduation morning. 

Sliced, homemade strawberry bread to surprise Tina

for her special day. 

Hot coffee and my seat by the back window,

Good Morning America on the tv.  I'm only listening to the news; however, as I've noticed a tiny bird hopping across the deck.

Squatting in determination, it tries several times to flutter on top of  the outside coffee table.  Hop, Hop....Flutter....Fall.

I realize this isn't a tiny bird, but is the last of our babies learning to fly. 

Whispering a quiet yell to the kids, I call them to join me to watch and we gaze, mouths open, as the bird flutters higher and higher, then eventually across the lawn.  An unexpected, sneak peek at beautiful life.

Our little birds, from ocean blue tiny eggs... to babies... to flight.   

Heading out the door to Tina's 8th grade graduation the symbolism hit me.  Just as we'd witnessed growth in life, our own "little bird" was reaching a milestone.  Now promoted to high school, our bird is now an eagle.

 

She's grown so much these past two years.  Blossomed.
And we can't wait to see her spread her wings as a freshman, as she starts this next chapter of her life.

"God bless you and keep you,

God smile on you and gift you,

God look you full in the face

and make you prosper."

Numbers 6:24-26, MSG