Hesitant Anticipation

Before Jon graduated, I eagerly longed for the day he would no longer have school work. It just could not come quickly enough, in my opinion! Now that we're on the other side of graduation (and let me assure you, it's been every bit as wonderful as I'd imagined!), I am just as eager for the day that he'll no longer work nights. I mean, if no school is this good, what could be better than having him work normal hours where he can be home with me at night and on the weekends?

And yet, as much as I want that new job, I have to admit that I also hesitate, just a little. What if the new job falls through? What if it requires a move? What if, what if, what if? The security guard job he has is working...sort of. It's getting us by for the time being, and it probably isn't going to fall through no matter how poor the economy becomes. In an odd way, I've come to depend on it, even though I loathe it as well.

Does this sound rather silly? It does to me, when I step back and think about it. I guess the insecurity comes from what has happened before: he worked nights years ago but then landed a great, high-paying day job. But when that fell through, he had to go back to nights. I'm afraid of going through that again.

Really, this is how I feel about Heaven and life after death. The Bible has promised that Heaven is for all of us who believe, that it is far better, far richer, far more wonderful than we can ever hope to imagine. And yet, since I've not actually seen it, since I cannot touch it, picture it, or imagine it, I am afraid of it. It's the unknown. Those who are already there are probably shaking their heads at me. It will be better than anything I have ever known, just as having Jon on a day shift will be unfathomably better than his current work situation.

So, I anticipate both Jon's new job (whenever it comes) and Heaven...but with just a hint of hesitation on the side. I'm sure that after the change has taken place, I will laugh at myself for being so silly. Perhaps, though, this is what keeps me human.

Mirror Image

Recently, my friend Amy pointed out how our children reflect us - often with painful accuracy. When I see the boys do something wrong or hear them repeat something that causes me to blush, I usually find the root of these things in something I've said or done. It is rather embarrassing to see myself so perfectly replicated in my kids. More accurately, it's convicting.

On the flip side, when I find Tyler cleaning up a mess Lauren has made without my asking him to, when Kyle walks up to me just to tell me he loves me, I smile contentedly inside. It is comforting to know that more than just my errors are rubbing off.

In many ways, the boys' good behavior is just as convicting as their bad judgment. Do I respond with as much enthusiasm to chores as my kids do? Am I as willing to forgive them as they are to forgive me? Can I rest as contentedly in difficult situations as they do?

So, while they do mirror me, I also find myself hoping to reflect them as well.