All tired out

There is the day to day fatigue (and the amazing ability to fight it off) of being five with the running, rarely walking, to get trinkets and items that will make the latest space shuttle and its control panel ever more realistic, and the chasing down the side walk on the way to the store, and the climbing over the seat of the van while I am putting in the new booster, and the multiple trips up and down the stairs to get more things for who-knows-what and then there is the fatigue induced by a new activity: swim camp. The boys and their neighbor friend spent nearly 2 hours in the pool, then did crafts, ate snacks and ran around. On the 10 minute ride home, there was a sleeper. In the 10 minutes upon arrival, there was a pitiful meltdown. But then in the 10 minutes after we tucked our droopy faced swimmers into bed? There was still playing space shuttle!

I remember my mom countless times saying, "If I had only half the energy you had..." or "where to you get all of that energy?" or another variation referring to the combination of an abundance of energy and a disinterest in slowing down. I remember thinking, "what is the big deal? I don't feel particularly energetic!" But I appreciated my constant action being noticed, and watching her try to keep up with me. I never expected that I would witness the same phenomena: in the energy department, kids outlast their parents.

I don't think it is simply age, but the way we interact with the world that reshapes our feelings about our energy. It isn't enough for us to experience the world and then recreate it in our own way using whatever tools and toys and scotch tape we can find. For us adults, we are too busy judging the world, protecting ourselves and our kids, worrying about the next thing, and feeling guilty about forgetting what has already happened. It isn't enough for us to splash and slide and make hanging fish out of CD's and googlie eyes and make friends. We need to workout and worry about how our head will feel if we just jump (or dive!) in the water and where we will hang that fish once it comes home and can we now maybe throw out that painted paper lizard on the window that has faded into a mundane off-white?

No, for us adults we thinly spread out our energy over a field of endeavors and their accompanying worries. But it isn't always like that. No matter how distracted we can get, the world calls us back to experience it. It may be the yellow-orange sky after a mid-sunset storm passes by. Or it may be a friend calling to just say hello. For me, it was Elliott's thanksgiving tonight: he leaned his head back and gave God thanks for looking up in the sky.

I had forgotten what he said by the time I finished the kitchen and turned on the computer and hollered (for the third time) for them to stop talking and stay in their own beds. But now I remember, and I remember how my energy soared, just for that moment, even though I am all tired out (but happily willing to slow down!) as they are. And I am grateful, too. For being reminded by a child to look up in the sky, to see what is there, and just let it be.