The Significance of the Passage of Time

My oldest child is twenty-one years old today.

There they are, all six of my enormous children waiting for rosy-fingered dawn to make her regularly scheduled appearance. That sure went by quickly. The oldest child is 21 today. Being the right sort of person, she made French Toast for everyone for breakfast and is now doing the dishes. Because, when you are an adult, that’s what your birthday is like. She won’t have to make lunch though. We’ll figure something out.

This seems as good a moment as any to ponder the Significance of the Passage of Time:

I’m not exactly sure what one could say about the day in the life of our children. All our children have so many days. Which day and which child would you like to talk about? Who honestly knows what could possibly be said about them, both the days and the children, except that they do go by so quickly and that must mean something incredibly significant.

I did, and still do, resent the people—not anyone personally related to me, mind you, no one ever told me this, but I did read it online sometimes—who say to young mothers that they should “cherish every moment.” Can you even imagine? That’s as terrible as telling someone to “be present” in every moment as if it were possible not to be for some reason. Sure, you can be distracted, and I guess that’s bad, but not all the time. Sometimes being distracted is good. It gets you through the long long long days where Time seems to have stopped and all you have is an endless progression of boring meals and more cleaning and more bickering. It is really by simultaneously not thinking too much about “the moment” but also thinking about it enough, that a person can make it through whatever circumstance and situation they’re at…..waiting for Grammarly to correct me there…and I guess not. No wait! No never mind. Sigh. Where was I? Oh yes. The significance of the passage of time is mainly that time does pass. If it didn’t, we would all be so uncomfortably stuck, like when Death in the Discworld went on holiday and no one knew what to do until he came back.

At one point when all my children were very little and my house was a mess and I was holding a whining baby I was struck to the heart with the horror that the baby would one day grow up and that that would be it, no more babies. I looked out over the sea of toys and was overcome by grief that all my children were going to grow up and leave me alone to die. I started to come undone. And then, by the sheer mercy and grace of God, I wondered to myself what it would be like if the baby didn’t grow up, if she went on being a baby forever, if the children didn’t get taller and grow and go off to seek their fortunes. That does sometimes happen and then God gives more grace—superabundant grace—to meet the needs and trials of those who don’t grow as expected, who have serious troubles. But for those children who are basically healthy, and are just going on in the usual way, spreading peanut butter and Nutella all over the furniture and carefully placing their legos in serendipitous places to cause maximum pain upon their parents, the significance of the passage of time is a real gift. Standing there, caught between exhaustion and grief, I was mysteriously cheered, because little babies growing up into strong, interesting, curious people is a gracious and happy occasion.

It happens, frankly, by magic. It happens no matter what you feed them or whenever they manage to learn to read or drive. It is a force, like a germinating seed, that takes actual power to impede or hinder. And why would you want to? Only wicked people stomp on the charm of their darlings growing into responsible and independent people.

The other thing I’ve learned in the 21 years that I’ve been self-identifying as a good mother is that you always think that the control and order you long for are just over the horizon. When the children are all out of toddlerhood, then my house will be clean and our schedule will make sense I said every day as I rose from my bed. No wait, when they get out of elementary school and learn to put their shoes away. Oh never mind, surely now that they are teenagers, they will not junk up the kitchen right after I’ve put it to rights. Oh well, maybe when they move out my house will be in apple pie order.

I’m pretty sure, as I contemplate The Significance of the Passage of Time, that once my children have gone away—which at this rate they probably will never do—my house will still be a wreck because I myself will have forgotten how to hang up my own coat. So anyway, happy birthday to all of you who have Birthdays today. May God give you nice things, especially significant and meaningful moments in time that are in a passage and that are also significant. Have a nice day!