Saturday, November 9, 2013

Morning Sky Fades Fast

Last week I was driving to town early one morning and staring right into the most beautiful sunrise.  Clouds had formed the coolest pattern over the mountains, and shades of red and orange were everywhere.

I wanted to get to a spot where I knew I could get a good picture.  By the time I pulled off the road...just moments later...the view had changed.  Red and orange were replaced with a darker shade of dawn.  Clouds had moved.  The sun was reflecting off a new spot that I could no longer see.

The morning sky fades so fast.  It changes before our eyes, and even though we can see it, the way it happens leaves us wondering if we really witnessed the transformation after all.  
And so it seems to be with our lives.

Carson, the baby of the family, is 7 and in the first grade.  His first year of full day school.  It's bittersweet to drop him off every morning and know he'll be under the care of someone who isn't me and who isn't grandma for the next six and a half hours.  It makes me thankful for his teacher, whom I love and he loves.  Nonetheless, today there was no school and my day was better because he was home with me.  Just yesterday, Carson was a little tiny guy with a head of curly hair, crying after brothers got out of the car to go to school because he would miss them until pick up time.  And the very moment they were back in his sight, he would do every naughty thing possible in order to get their attention.

Cole, the mellow middle child, is approaching the end of his elementary career.  He wakes up every morning of the week while it's still dark, comes in quietly and whispers, "Good morning, mom."  On school days, he's showered, dressed, and ready to go with his bed made and lunch packed before his brothers are even moving.  Time for a morning hunt is his motivator.  Whatever he is into, he's all in.  These days, he reads alone in bed at night, and I remember just yesterday when he smiled from ear to ear, eyes twinkling, as we sat together at bedtime and he sounded out his first words in Dick and Jane.

Clay, nearing his 14th year, seems to have found the maturity, memory, and responsibility that I lost (or maybe never had).  We're well into our 3rd year of home school together, and I'm daily thankful he talked me into it.  Two weeks ago, we were riding bikes across town when the middle school and high school got out.  I learned I'm not as cool as I once was, as I heard the mutter behind me..."Oh my gosh.  Everyone is going to see me riding bikes with my mom..."  Just yesterday, Clay had my time all to himself.  We sat in the yard with a bag of cherries as I taught him how to spit out the seeds.  The red stains of the fruit ran down the front of his shirt with the little blue truck on it, and thought to myself that I would never, ever forget the details of those days.

The blessing about the morning sky fading is what comes after it.  A new day, filled with beauty of its own.  And again, it's the same in life.

For all the great things my boys were at some time in the past, 
there are new great things today.
And there will be more great things tomorrow.

Carson is an encourager.
Cole is kind hearted.
Clay is dedicated.
 God has gifted them all in perfect and unique ways.

The morning sky can't stay the way it is forever, because if it did, we'd miss all the beauty that lies ahead.  So for now, I'll try to receive every morning sky with gladness...enjoy it while it lasts...and look ahead with joy at what is still to come.


  1. Oh, Brooke...thank you for these tender, heart-felt observations. What a gift to read your words.

    1. I must be lacking in the "technologically savvy" department, Katie. :) Just seeing your sweet comment for the first time. Thank you! :)