They are only little for such a short while . . .
Time to close the chapter on another year, it went by quite quickly. So many clichés come to mind. Clichés may be trite, but they sometimes speak volumes of truth, time really does fly.
This past year seemed to soar by particularly quickly, I’m not entirely certain if that is a positive or a negative. It was a decent enough year, nothing too terribly terrible to report.
I didn’t make any huge life changes, it wasn’t an easy year, but it wasn’t the hardest I’ve had. If I seem apathetic I suppose it’s because I am in a small way. I didn’t realize that until just now. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful because I am so much more than thankful for every single moment I was blessed with over the past 365 days.
It would sound incredibly selfish if I were to say I wish it had been different. Well, here I am, sounding selfish. I do wish it had been different. I wish certain things had happened and I wish others had not. I wish I could have spent more time feeling well and less time just trying to get through each day.
I wish I could have helped my children strengthen their wings enough to fly. I wish I would have written more letters, called more old friends, and let myself become lost in more moments of wonder. I wish the world was a better place.
At least I didn’t break any of last years resolutions, mostly because I didn’t make any. I never do. That old saying, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, may be a bit on the dramatic side, but it’s pretty spot on. I know I’m not heading to hell, but I also know resolutions are nothing more than really good intentions which ultimately litter the roadside of whatever path we are traveling.
While I may sound like someone in need of a good therapy session, I assure you, I’m good. I know just how beautiful my life is, after all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Another great cliché right? I am alive. My family is well, my children are continuing to learn and grow and find their place in this world. My beautiful daughter began a new life as a new wife. I hear my mother’s voice on the phone every day. My husband brings me coffee each morning and the sun never fails to rise.
God is good and I know whatever this new year brings, He will provide me with the grace I need to face whatever comes my way.
Today became yesterday
before I knew it had passed,
I pray my sweet memories
of each moment will last.
When tomorrow arrives
I will cherish the day,
for I know that it too
will pass quickly away.
In the midst of a moment
precious memories are made,
we wrap them in love,
in hopes they won’t fade.
We gather them up,
tuck them safely away,
inside of our hearts
to look back on someday.
Crystal R. Cook
I remember writing this years ago, I recall just how I felt in the moment. I’d had a moment of heartbreaking realization, time is fleeting. I could not believe how fast my children had grown. They were still babies really, some days it feels like it was only yesterday.
Time really is fleeting.
Years etch lines
upon the face of youth,
of living art,
soft and silken
to the touch.
Hands of strength
once fast and sure,
of delicate lace
in the wind,
Eyes once bright
slowly fade to
Crystal R. Cook
“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the Kings horses and all the Kings men, couldn’t put Humpty together again.”
I will be putting my father on an airplane today. I don’t know just how I feel right now. I am thankful for the time we’ve had together, I just wish I could have done more, been more, and said more during his stay. He is quiet, spending most of his time locked away in whatever thoughts he may be thinking, hidden away within his room. We are much alike in that way. I should have made more of an effort to open the doors.
He came more out of need than desire, I suppose that isn’t entirely true, the desire was always there but until the need arose it was more of a want and a wish. I had hoped to fulfill what needs he had, to try to heal what needed healing, to nurture what needed nurturing, but I didn’t know how, I don’t think anyone does, not even him.
I don’t know much of the man who once cradled me in his arms, I know he loved me. I know he loves me still. The man I now know has been broken.
He is broken.
As I sat sipping my coffee this morning, thinking about his upcoming departure, that silly old nursery rhyme kept coming to mind. My father is Humpty Dumpty, at least he is in the picture formed by my thoughts as I let my coffee turn cold.
I think this Humpty began to break long before he sat on that wall, maybe that is why he was so easily shattered. No one noticed the insidious cracks that were slowly growing until they became crevices, few seemed to see the tiny shards that fell from his fragile shell as he walked among them.
Jagged bits of him became scattered here and there over time. Some who saw the pieces picked them up and pocketed them, in hopes of restoration, but perhaps they waited too long and forgot where they were meant to fit, or maybe they just couldn’t get near enough. Some of those precious pieces were simply crushed beneath the feet of those who walked beside and behind, without ever looking down.
Collectors of the broken pieces have attempted to patch him back together with mismatched parts they’ve carefully tried to craft themselves, but like puzzle pieces missing corners, they fit, but don’t quite fill the space where they belong.
Humpty looks whole when you see him from a distance, but when you stand with him, face to face, heart to heart, you see the places and spaces in his shell where something once was, where something should be. He is still beautiful, though broken, still shattered, yet whole. He is who he is.
I don’t know if anyone even noticed him climbing the wall he would eventually tumble from, No one seemed to see the danger until after the fall. All of those horses and all of those men never saw the pull it had on Humpty. He was small and it loomed large, offering false freedom on the other side. Humpty was trying to escape from something perhaps only he could see, but real and terrifying. Something that haunted him, something no one else could know. Whatever it was, it pierced his shell and it began to splinter.
He doesn’t need any more fixing, the time for that has passed. What he now needs is acceptance and understanding, compassion and care. He needs space and time to heal, perhaps the rest of time.
The King of Kings has promised healing, the true King has promised he would one day be whole again, when Humpty has finished his journey and he reaches the throne, every crack and every crevice will be filled. New and whole he will be, never again to be broken.
Until that day, be gentle with him . .
Crystal R. Cook
My baby is 17 years old today. I swear when I tucked him in just yesterday he was still my baby boy, but when the sun rose again today he stood before me, almost a man. He still smiles at me with the same precious grin, his eyes still twinkle the way they always have, and when he puts his arms around me, they still wrap around my heart. It’s different now though, before, it felt like I was holding him, now it seems he’s holding me.
I still look at him and see the little man he used to be, I’m sure I always will, but I also see the young man he has become. He is smart and kind, gentle and generous. He fills me with pride and joy and the purest of love.
He is his own person, unique and courageous, forging his own path rather than following one well-worn by others. His wears his faith for all to see, he leads instead of follows, and he takes every step with confidence.
He’s always been the baby brother, but he somehow knew in his earliest years he would sometimes have to gently guide his older brothers every now and then. He learned patience and compassion before he could understand the concepts of them. His brothers taught him many things while he was unknowingly teaching them. I know it isn’t easy to have siblings with special needs, but he embraced the role with grace and love.
I respect the young man he has grown to be, I admire him. I know there will come a tomorrow when I awake to the simple silence of an empty home, so today, I will cherish the fullness it still holds.
Crystal R. Cook