Just a few weeks ago, a young man visited with me to ask for my 23 year-old daughter’s hand in marriage. This is for another blog post, but I asked him some rather pointed questions: “Why do you love my daughter?” “Are you keeping any secrets from her?” “How do you resolve conflict with her?” “What’s your natural response when someone hurts or offends you?” It wasn't completely a drill-fest. I had other softer questions and affirming comments (again, another blog for another day). He was authentic, honest and secure. No doubt— he’s the one for my girl.
I spoke to her on the phone tonight. She’s planning her wedding and I can hear in her voice how happy and secure she is. I’m filled with joy with her.
Since the day of their engagement, my mind has often gone back to the memories of my little girl and the fondness associated with those memories. Simultaneously, I am troubled (almost angered) with the relentless march of time. I want to rewind the years and hold those moments again, prevent them from ending, and cherish them more consciously. Yet, the brutal fact is that minutes with our kids are fleeting.
You don’t know when the day will come, but one day will be the last day you get to carry your child to their room, tuck them in bed, pray with them, kiss them goodnight and hear those sweet words “I love you, daddy.” One day will be the last day.
Sadly, time is the only resource that must be spent the instant it is received; it cannot be saved and it must be spent at a fixed rate— sixty seconds per minute, sixty minutes per hour, 24 hours per day, etc.
We cannot manage time. We can only manage ourselves in relation to time. We cannot control how much time we have. We can only control how we use it.
We cannot stop the minutes, but we can make minutes into moments— and by making minutes moments, we are able to craft memories. Memories that can never be taken away and that comfort and console us in seasons of letting go, even allowing us to be grateful for new moments ahead.
WE ONLY GET:
1 first holiday
18 summers
10 times to play Santa
20 chances to play tooth fairy
1 first date
1-2 proms
1 high school graduation
1 chance to teach them to be good human beings
So, the perspective we should always have is doing our best today. The day that counts, the only day we have is this one. We don’t have to be perfect with it. We never will be. If we didn’t do our best today, then we’ll do our best tomorrow. Dad, just keep showing up.
For many years, from the time she was a toddler to even as an early teen, Kaley and I had a bedtime ritual. I would often carry her up the stairs to her room. On the way up, I would “accidentally” bump her head and legs against the staircase wall and say, “Oops! Sorry.” I would do that several times as we went up. She would laugh or say, “Dad! You did that on purpose!” It was our little thing.
I don’t remember the last time I carried my daughter upstairs; what day it was or how old she was. I wish I did. I don’t remember the last time, but I am so thankful that I remember MANY times doing so. Those minutes of her going to bed I chose to make into moments. Now I hold them as memories— and that helps me as I give her away.
Dad, keep showing up.
I'd love to hear your biggest takeaway, questions or comments. Please email me! I read and respond to every email.
Mike Ayers, Ph.D.
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