Being There

October 27, 2017

Who doesn’t love the kind of quality, family, squabbling time that comes from sitting in traffic for five and a half hours.  There’s the endless strategic positioning for space and elbow room, the inevitable tears, sometimes just one, sometimes Bradley joins in, possibly the driver thinks about it...it’s like a rite of passage.  The back seat will get blissfully quiet as they all three fall asleep for a few hours and in those moments, parents in the front silently beg the traffic to part like the Red Sea and grant fast (oh and safe) passage to our destination before they wake up and the loving banter (brawling) begins in the back seat all over again.  At some point, Bradley isn’t tired of his movie, he’s tired of sitting and wants to enjoy acting out all that he can with very exaggerated arms movements and quite a bit of contact with the kid stuck in the middle for the trip.  Usually, more tears will threaten and possibly fall...the inevitability of this is practically a written rule somewhere.

And so, five nad half hours later...we arrived at our destination.  Last night was my nephew’s last Home football game for the regular season.  Play-off football is probably on the menu, but whether any will be at home is the question mark.  Besides, it was the Senior Game, so it was special.  And we got there...we just missed the ceremony, and most of the first quarter, and absolutely all of the JV game that was right before it that my other nephew played in.  So, my grand plan to watch two of my nephews play last night failed miserably.  I did get to see the Senior play, so at least there was that.  And for him, it was what I hope is a great moment and memory as all of his family from his dad’s side were all in attendance.

I don’t know if he even remembers, but when we had to move from San Diego, I told him that I would see him play his Senior year.  I told him then I would try to see one more game for football and baseball before he graduated.  Thanks to my sweet husband, and my pseudo-patient children, we made the trip and saw him play.  Promises made and kept...my little clan helped me do that and I feel really good about it, and am truly grateful to them.

We were hoping to get a chance to see the family before heading north again, but first we’re tapping into the musical brains to try to help with problems with my French Horn players Horn.  I wish I understood instruments and could help; but alas, my brilliance (cough, cough, wink, wink) lies in other areas.

Oh, and then there was the three screws that embedded in my back tire.  That’s sweet fun there.  So while we had our lovely auntie here creating musical magic, Dad took the car over to fix that tire...so we’ll be a little later leaving out that we had initially planned.  And so it goes, the life of chaos that swirls around this family.

A lot of fuss for a short time; I know, but I think that sometimes it is certainly the short time events, the precious moments that can’t be replaced that are truly worth the time spent in traffic, the hassle to pack up a family with the extras that come with what our Bradley’s needs in order to be there in that moment.   At the end of the day, when the lights go out and there is no more minutes to be had in my life, I can only pray that I can be remembered for being there every time I could.  That despite the distance in miles or circumstance, I found a way to be there.  Sadly, the distance is the greatest obstacle, but now my kids have their own moments that I want to be there for them, proud of their achievements.  They need to know I was there for them, that their Dad made all the sacrifices he could to be there as much as he can...they need to look back and have those moments and know that somehow we found ways through the chaos that often followed their brother’s life.  I can only hope that they will never doubt that they are loved and that they matter, and as they grow older, I hope that they will fully understand why finding ways to be a part of their cousins lives in these special; if not numerous ways, somehow matters in the best ways.  That they will continue to grow into the kind of people that grace the lives of others, and offer the gifts of love that are paid for from the heart and not the pocket.

I wish that I would be the one to teach them this, but I know my teacher is a 46 inch tall little boy that holds a hurricane in his hand and the essence of joy in the spark of his eyes.  How his soul wraps around mine in quiet confidence as it teaches me what love truly is about.  Sometimes, the best love is being there, he taught me that, and so I make promises that I work hard to keep and somehow my family tries to find the way to just be there.  My little clan is getting really good about learning to just Be There.