It Turns Out Well

"How old are these kids? Mom, did you sign me up for t-ball?!" Dracen was absolutely mortified when we showed up at his first fall baseball practice yesterday at 5:30 and quickly realized that we were somehow not at the right place at the right time. I assured him that I had signed him up for the nine and ten year old league but the coach (who is coaching two teams) must have given me the wrong time because I wrote it down. I.wrote.it.down. On the calendar.

When the coach showed up he confirmed that we were indeed there at the wrong time and that his practice was after the t-ball practice, at 6:30. "Well, he just told me the wrong time is all. I know he did because I wrote it down! It's on the calendar." 

We headed back home since the field is only 5 minutes away and I went straight to the calendar to prove I was right make the necessary changes since I had been told 5:30 on Mondays and Thursdays and 2:00 on Saturdays. I grabbed my pen and scribbled out the time and then...Ohhh...Oops...My bad. I had just scribbled out a 6:30 that was written in my very own handwriting. 6:30 on Mondays, 5:30 on Thursdays. Right there it was. 

And before I even walked away from the calendar, Dracen was already on the phone dialing Popaw to inform him that I had taken him to t-ball practice. T-Ball! He was so mortified he had to vent to the popaw. 

I'm guessing he felt a little like I did when I was informed (just before my senior year of high school) that I still needed a FRESHMAN class (required in NC but not GA, where I had moved from) in order to graduate because oops, we forgot to tell you about it until now. Talk about being mortified. I still have nightmares about that. 

Okay, not really. But I have (obviously) not forgotten about it after all these...how many years? I had to count. It will be twenty five next year. TWENTY FIVE YEARS since I graduated high school! 

Some days it feels every bit of that but most days I have a hard time wrapping my mind around it.

Time...

I'm finding that it has this sort of sneaky way of speeding up on us, the older we get. 

It hit me (out of the blue) awhile back that on September 2nd of this year (yesterday) it would be 9 years, 8 months and 1 week since Darin died. 9 years, 8 months and 1 week is exactly how long he was in my life. 

I hesitated to write that because I never want to sound like I am dwelling or looking back over my shoulder and living in the past because I've always been proud of the way I was able to embrace the art of moving forward...of living in the present...of keeping my mind and my heart open...to live again...to love again...to accept the grace and the gifts God has been so good to bless me with over the years.

But I felt that I should...as a reminder to love and appreciate the ones we are given to love, because this life on earth? Is oh so very unpredictable and temporary. 

I know this but still I was reminded (yet again) when I heard the news that a friend of Devin's just lost his dad over the weekend. My heart breaks and aches for him and his family, just as it does each and every time I hear that kind of news because I know...I know all too well the painful depths of the journey that lies before them now.  

But I like to think of those of us who have gone before them as positive reminders. I want them to know that while that road will be rough, it will also be paved with so many little unexpected moments of happy surprises and realizations that not only does life go on...

It goes on good.

{Kinda like going back at the right time (6:30 on Mondays) for the right practice and not having to hit off a tee after all.}