Running out of summer
Summer time comes and goes so quickly. My dream of endless summer days stretching out lazily ahead of us, full of creativity inducing boredom, feels like a figment of my imagination. My memories of long summer afternoons filled with dirty feet and imaginary forts might just be wishful thinking and nostalgia.
Summer felt full this year. Packed with park excursions, VBS’s, roadtrips and weddings. In many ways it felt like summer was a stretch of open road and children strapped in a car seat. The summer was full of “yes”.
Yes to park visits and play date. Yes to the splash pad and the library and weddings.
We did not travel the world. Many of the things that filled our days we incredibly ordinary. But I remind myself that even though there are still many things on my bucket list that did not get crossed off, I sought out activities as if this was our last summer ever.
The line from our beloved Hamilton sound track kept coming to mind.
“Why do you write like you're running out of time?
Write day and night like you're running out of time?
Every day you fight, like you're running out of time”
Running out of time. That’s how I felt. As if there is some count down clock that is slowly ticking away.
When I described our summer as full to a friend, she texted back that she wasn’t surprised. “It is your first summer out of the newborn stage after all.”
The truth of that hits home. Not only is it the first summer in years that I am not pregnant, but is also the only summer in many years where we haven’t spent a surprising number of weeks at the hospital. Or made an emergency drive to Chicago
This is the first summer that did not hold lots of uncertainty, fear, and stress. The first in which I could fool myself into believing that the summer was mine alone. Mine to do with as I pleased. And I did not for a minute ask that questions, “what should I want this summer?’
“And I will give you the desires of your heart.”
So I said yes yes yes. I can. I should. I will.
I felt the need to make up for or catch up from so many limited summers.
And all the yes’s lead to fun experiences and great memories. I wanted to do ALL the things. The list of activities and opportunities kept getting longer and the days of summer kept getting shorter. And while there are, Lord willing, many summers to come, my brain felt like this was it!
All the things left undone can make me anxious if I add them up. The parks we didn’t get to, the trips that did not happen. My mental bucket list has a lot of boxes left to check. We logged more miles on our car, than walks after dinner. Our only trip to the beach was wearing sweatshirts.
But memories are made in our yes’s and our no’s. In our plans and our intentional lack of plans.
We can consume and consume and consume. We can say yes to every opportunity and fit it all in. But that leaves no time for the beautiful things that happen in the in-between. If we fill our calendar, we leave no time for games of baseball outside or family bike rides. We can go to every festival and street fair, but leave no time for lingering with friends around the back porch.
For this season, I will try to be present. To remember that there is time for many thing, but not all the things. And that saying no now, doesn’t mean saying no forever.
Chasing constant entertainment will not leave me fulfilled. It will not erase the difficult things that have happened, nor will It out run any hardships that are to come.
Choosing to be content in the things that are in front of us will bring more contentment than any finished list. Choosing to put certain things on the calendar and leave some things off, even if they sound so fun. I will try to embrace my limitedness, and elevate the ordinary. I will try to remember that every no to something is a yes to something else. I will dwell on the things we did, the tie we spent together instead of the things we missed out on. Because if you are present in the moment in front of you, you are never missing out.
