The Coach got hearing aides this year. I don't think he'd mind you knowing. Well, I hope he doesn't. Anyway, I had such high hopes. Being able to call him from the other room. Having him hear me tell him about my day and knowing he wouldn't miss the crazy conversations around the dinner table. Not repeating things over and over. And over.
At his first follow up with the audiologist, they went over the adjustments he'd made to the levels. The whole thing is VERY fancy - you can adjust them, using your phone, depending on where you are, the kinds of sounds, etc. The audiologist looked at the information from his first week and said, "Wow. Your house is loud."
If he only knew.
I tattled on him during a football game, to his ENT - whose grandson is in our youngest's class. "I was so excited when he got them!" I told him, "But he takes them out when he gets home."
He just laughed.
It's like that, isn't it? Often, those at home - who we are safe with - get us at our worst. When we relax. When we don't listen as carefully. When we're tired and our tempers are short. When we change out of our nice clothes and put on our joggers. When we take out our contacts.
Maybe we are the least patient with those who love us the most. But then that makes the love of those who see us in THOSE moments, even more precious.
Having adult kids that live at home has its distinct challenges. They've lived on their own, made their own schedules, routines and decisions. They haven't had to ask if they can go out or tell someone when they'll be home. No worries about being quiet when they come in, or waking someone up in the morning when they leave. Then they move home and (gasp!) have to actually consider how what they do effects those around them.
Our oldest left home his first Fall after high school - and only spent one Summer home with us before he got married after college graduation. Our daughter graduated and lived at home for a year before she got married. And worked nights at a nurse most of that year. Now our third is home, after finishing his classes for his degree - only student teaching left this Spring. He'll be living at home until his wedding in May.
All of these seasons with the adult kids have been good. There has been hard, too, but lots of good. I'm thankful for the time with them before they move on and don't call this "home" anymore. And then they come back and it's even better.
I'm not even sure what my point is with all of this. I guess I think back to when I started writing this blog when Little Man was a baby. And now he's 13. THIRTEEN. I have no idea.
I think about our journey as parents of 8 kids, 11 and under, - to parents of two married kids and three college kids and two high school kids and our baby in Jr. High. What a ride. I think about how I always wanted to have 12 kids... and in May we'll have 11. I love them all so much - the original 8 and the three additions.
Mostly, I think about how God has been so faithful as we've gone from young marrieds with babies to old marrieds with hearing aides. How God's goodness has been the constant through it all. Every season. I've truly loved every minute.
And I'm also tired. And sometimes, when the kids still at home assert their "independence," (Which they don't really have because, you know, we're still funding their lives. Sigh.) I wonder if it's worth it. I want to give up. I don't want to deal with the fall out of the trauma our kids have experienced. It's ridiculously hard - and I grow weary asking God for more grace more strength more perseverance more HELP trying to figure out what matters and what doesn't.
But I'm pretty sure this is it. This is what matters. Living life together and seeking to somehow bring God glory through all of the things - the laughter and the tears. Enjoying the time when we have all of our people together. And missing them when we aren't. Celebrating birthdays, engagements, weddings. graduations, and LIFE. Together.
No season lasts forever. But this one is pretty great.
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