Let Them Be Little & Let Them Grow Too
Amigas, here is a cuentito (little story) about how I recently got my heart broken over a home update.
Quick background: We recently updated our backyard by removing the deck and adding a paver patio. Since we were removing old and less functional items, we decided that it would be best to remove the playset that has been here since way before we moved in. Although the set was worse for wear when we moved in, it didn’t stop it from being central to my kid’s outdoor playtime, especially for my youngest.
It seems that throughout the past five years, we have spent countless hours on the swings playing “pirate” or just cuddling and swinging while watching the clouds move back and forth above. When we moved in, Joshy was one and could barely toddle his way up the ladder to slide. Over the years, I have watched him strengthen and secure his footing, often climbing precariously to the very top of the structure (where the wooden dowels were growing loose), giving me mini heart attacks every time. While the playset has been loads of fun, we knew that it was time for it to go for various reasons. For one thing, it was in its last usable season and would begin to be unsafe. Also, it was an eyesore. There was so much more needed than a coat of paint and frankly, I knew that it would look even less attractive next to the brand new pavers. Lastly, and most importantly, the kids weren't playing with it the way they used to. My older son, Caleb, never used it anymore and Josh would only swing from time to time. The season of the playset had come to an end and I was not ready for how that would impact me.
The day that the contractors came for removal, I was working from home. I actually had been casually stalking them throughout the entire process because I am really into home projects and learning new skills. During a work break, I stood at the back door and as the contractor began cutting pieces and removing parts, feelings of sadness, regret and loss came over me. He noticed me watching and called out, “You excited for your new yard?”
“I don’t know”, I replied honestly, with tears welling in my eyes. “My kids used to play on that all the time, now they are bigger”, I continued, trying to justify why I was emotional. Why was I so mad at the man that we were paying to remove this playset because he was removing the playset?
The man didn’t seem phased by my reaction and as he continued to chop and pull pieces of the ground, he responded, “Yeah, but growth is a good thing.” He wasn't asking me if I agreed but stating a fact. Okay Mr. Playset Remover, you better be ministering to me! Growth is a good thing. Growth can be painful or seem to come too soon, it may even call for more change than we expected but in the end, it is good. Not only is it good, but it is necessary. Old structures do not belong in the new landscapes that God has for us.
My heart wasn't wrenched because of a play structure but because of what its removal represented. The end of an era in my parenting. I felt like I was thrust into the next season of my babies needing me less, of my babies no longer being babies. Though it hurts my heart and I mourn for the days that will not return, the pain also is tenderizing my heart to honor what is to come. Knowing how fleeting the days are reminds me to be present and grateful in each day that I have. We now have a preteen boy who we get to have really insightful conversations with. We have the honor of sowing into him as he grows into a young man. As for my youngest, I am counting every lost tooth and taking deep inhales of six year old rizos, which often smell of a hint of leave in conditioner mixed with playground and little boy sweat. I take mental pictures of the now and I wonder about the marvels that God has in store for them later.
My boys may be growing like weeds, their interests may be changing and they certainly may outgrow more things than playsets. One thing that will not change is that I am their Mami. God gave me these boys to steward; To honor Him as I parent them. The dynamics will no doubt be different as they grow, but I can continually find delight if I hold them with secure but nimble fingers. Holding them tight and letting go at the same time. Embracing change.
