Catoctin Kids

A New Chapter by Anita DiGregory It’s a beautiful Saturday morning here in the area I am blessed to call home. The sun is shining. The sound of my children playing in the distance is ringing in the air. But instead of enjoying the day out with the family, I am sitting at the kitchen table, head down, suffering major writer’s block. My column for October is due, and I can’t seem to make it happen. I love October. The weather, the colors, the boots, the sweaters—I love it all. But now as I sit here in a heap, I can’t find the words. I want to make it easy; I could use something easy, something simple. A nice simple topic, totally opposite from the whirlwind my life has been lately; something completely opposite from all the doctor’s visits, the high school dramas, the broken hearts, the never-ending to-do lists, the constant running, the juggling of all the balls in the air. Easy, that’s what I need. Hmm…what is October the month of? I do a quick internet search. No, that won’t do. What is wrong with me? October. I look up, glance at the fridge and think about how it’s a perfect metaphor for my life: it’s an organized mess. The bills, the deadlines, the work schedules, the have to do’s, all stuck up there amongst the beautiful prayers, crayon pictures created with care by sweet, little hands, the wise messages telling me to keep calm, and the family pictures…all the family photos. And then the tears fall. In October, things will change, again.  As I glance at the counters, I spot them: all the messy reminders, the rehearsal dinner venue brochures, the caterer cards, the bridal shower decorations…yup, October is coming fast. And now with all the proverbial floodgates open, all I can think about is my little one, my baby who somehow grew up overnight. How did that happen? I know all the experienced moms out there told me:  “Don’t blink. Don’t miss a minute.  They’ll be all grown up before you know it.” And, of course, they were right; I knew they were right all along. I tried to heed the wise advice.  Like special dried flowers pressed into old scrapbooks, I tried over the years to press into my memory all the special moments: all the firsts, the little fingers wrapped around my finger, the walks on the beach, the arms wrapped around my neck in sweet embrace. I honestly think the feeling of having sweet little arms wrapped around you has to be one of the greatest feelings on Earth, like a tiny glimpse of what Heaven must feel like. Then, with a blink of a tear, my memory transports me back to the new mommy class I attended nearly twenty-four years ago, when I was a brand new momma, sitting there with my brand new little one in a room full of new moms and babies.  In an attempt to conduct an (always awkward) ice-breaker, the instructor asked each member of this sleep-deprived, hormonal, anxious crowd to identify the one thing we found to be the most surprising about being a mother for the first time. I remember my answer. There was not much I was sure of back then. I was nervous, felt like I had no idea what I was doing, and was absolutely terrified of the day my husband’s time off would run out; he would return to work, and I would be all alone in the house with this new bundle of joy. But I was sure of my answer to her question. As a brand new mom, I was most surprised by how deeply and completely I felt joy and love: the joy of experiencing being mom each new moment to this beautiful baby and the unbounded, unconditional love for this child and my new little family. Fast forward to today and not too much has changed. My family has grown by leaps and bounds, and will be blessed with yet another sweet, beautiful family member in October, when my son joins his life to his new bride. And although every single day is a crazy ride on this roller coaster of life, I am blessed by every single crazy moment, ups and downs. Half of the time (probably more than half), I still feel like I have no idea what I am doing. But the truth is, this mom thing is crazy hard, and it’s okay not to have the answers all the time. Honestly, the more I realize how little control I have, the more I realize Who does have control, and the more time I spend in prayer, and that’s a pretty great place to be. I am still in awe at being mom to some of the beautiful blessings in my life, and being able to experience every new day, challenge, failure, mistake, and success with them.    And although it is hardly ever easy and always messy, there is nowhere else on earth I would rather be. So, come October, I will joyfully watch my son as he joins hands with his bride, exchanges vows, and they begin a new life together. And even though he may be grown and quite a bit taller than me now, this mom will undoubtedly turn into a puddle of tears when he wraps his arms around me, says goodbye, and begins a new chapter. October.