Good Stuff

Pastor's note: One of the features we want to bring to ‘Take Five’ is to get some of the guys in the church in on the blogging action. Here’s our leadoff ‘regular guy’ blogger – Jason Russell

I’ve lost count of how many people have given me this advice in relation to having young kids: “Don’t blink,” or, “Enjoy them, it’s gonna go fast.” While I appreciate these words, in the throes of day to day life it’s easy to forget them. Going from one “now” to the next seems to rush each night along and I forget to actually enjoy it. Now it’s time for taking tubbies, Now we need to sit down for dinner, “Now, stop ramming matchbox cars into your brother’s big toe!”

Saturdays, especially, can fly by. All the things I haven’t gotten to during the week stare at me on Saturday morning. Home projects pile up, bills need to be paid, and there’s that novel I’ve been meaning to write. A few weekends ago it was a sunny day and I decided to take my boys outside to, as my dad would say, “blow the stink off of us.” There’s an old rickety swing in our back yard that, oddly enough, our boys typically gravitate to. As we sat rocking on the swing I happened to have this thought: “I’m gonna miss these days soon.” We sat there rocking, not talking much. We looked up and saw airplanes flying through the sky. We felt the end of winter’s wind on our face. The only sound was the rusty metal squeaking as the swing moved back and forth. And there it hit me. You couldn’t have pulled me away from that moment if you offered me all the money in the world. Ten unhurried minutes with my sons on a sunny day is good stuff. Even if it’s spent on a decrepit swing. Knocking off things from the to-do list didn’t matter. Sprinting to the day’s next event was far from my mind. I just enjoyed being with them and I think they were content too.

I’ve decided to keep that moment on the sticky side of my brain. Before I know it they’ll be 10, then 18, then I’ll be crying on the front pew of the church at their wedding. For now, though, I’m going to try not to blink. I’ll try to actually enjoy the times spent together. Besides the fond memories, when else can a grown man sit and play with dump trucks and dig in the dirt without drawing strange looks from the neighbors?