Our oldest turns nine today.
We invited family. We invited some friends. We made cake. There were presents.
There was definitely joy and celebration, the subtle feel of confetti being tossed up in the air. But beneath the hum of joy was a somber tone.
I tried to put my finger on it when our oldest began a pizza conversation with his friends, “where do you stand on Russia?”
It reminded me of the story his preschool teachers told of our oldest, three at the time, during snack time, “So, Putin…”he said as he leaned against the tiny table.
I think I have not yet learned how to cope with the awful aspects in the world. Each shoe that drops is another shoe I say will be the last.
The shooting in the schools. The pandemic. The environment. The wars. That’s all there is, right?
And then another shoe drops and I’m startled. It’s a boot, metal parts drilled in, and I wish we could find a reprieve that involves rainbows, butterflies, and bunnies in an environmentally protected safe space.
Every once in awhile I see a glimpse of that perfection. My body softens, relaxes against the pillow of ease, and there is almost a gasp of either relief or peace.
Usually it’s when I am far away from the media, my phone, or the clanging sounds of humanity. There, there it is – goodness.
Tomorrow I will start anew. And with that I plan to whip up a batch of pancakes in the shape of a nine. That’s a tradition in this family.
It’s my attempt at bringing celebration into a world that sometimes feels deflated and lost. I can find joy if I search for it, I can celebrate the best things in life. Like the nine year old boy who wants to sit at the adult table to be in on the real topics of the day. Or a nine year old boy who freely hugs his mom to thank her for all she tries to do. Or a nine year old boy who once was so much smaller. A nine year old brother who is kind and good.
And I will take a moment to sink into the edge of perfection, beauty, that maybe with these children we will do better.
Embracing Next 