Just days after Landon left to serve a mission in South Carolina, we took our kids to see Toy Story 3–where Rick and I promptly died! We sobbed so bitterly that I contemplated rolling around the isles in an attempt to extinguish my grief.
The movie was a painful reminder that we too had watched our “Andy” pack up his childhood and walk away. I desperately longed for a do-over. More time to laugh play and explore together. More time to listen, experience and learn. More snuggles, stories and songs. More. Lots more.
“Did I do enough?” I wondered. “Did he know that he was my everything? That he was my world?” I wanted more time to make sure that he did.
I experience similar emotions–though far less intensely–when I visit my old blog. Reading the stories of my young family fills me with the desire for a do-over. I want to go back and hold tighter, longer and more attentively to each moment. And I want to live more of the moments we loved.
My recent #tbt post about the Welcome Home Snack especially pinged my heart as I found myself wrestling with feelings of guilt for not continuing a tradition that brought my children–and me–so much joy.
Until, remembering a blessing I received the day before, a blessing that reminded me of my continued influence over all of my children and the need to use, to the very fullest, the remaining time I have with my kids still at home, I shook off that guilt and developed a plan.
“Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.”
With the same enthusiasm I used to create a world of wonder and whimsy for my kids while they were young, I brought back the Welcome Home Snack.
And just as I suspected,
no one’s ever too old for a plate full of love,
after a long day at school.
