Life: The Heavy Wait

I was carrying a sleeping Reed in my arms tonight. He’s growing up so quickly. The baby fat is all gone and now he’s a sinewy little boy. It makes me ache in a way that is hard to really grasp, much less explain. It occurred to me tonight that it won’t be too much longer before he’s too big to carry and hold (much less too old). At forty pounds, he’s still easy for me to pick up and carry. But at sixty? Seventy? Rebekah, as well. Some inevitabilities of life make me quake. To have a child yet not be able to carry him as a child …

Who knew that the growth of a child meant the growing up of the parent?