My First Chance






It was my first chance to stay a couple days with my grandson. Well, maybe not my first chance, but it’s the first chance I’ve had since he’s become a young man. He’s closer to adulthood than ever. His folks had a scheduled trip, and even though he’s long past needing “babysitting” I thought it would be a great time to follow up with his request to re-paint his bedroom.

The last time I painted his room he was a young boy. I used the vibrant green and blue colors of the NFL Seahawks. With my novice painting talents, I taped the edges so the bright green didn’t seep into the brilliant blue. It was striking, even with some painter imperfections. Seahawk posters and championship regalia added character. He loved having his poster heroes as roommates. 




That was years ago. He’s long past the childhood dreams of being a pro player. My homemade Seahawk curtains are coming down, along with the matching team-themed bedspread and pillows. Goodbye, player posters. That’s not who he is any more.

 

He’s requested solid grey walls. I love the idea, but I love my grandson more. He’s finding his true self in a cyber world of choices. As I paint, I’m thinking of the years he’s spent in this room. He’s learned how to play sports, he’s learned Spanish, and tackled the kind of math that makes my head hurt. He’s memorized chemistry formulas and now drives the car instead of me. Most important, he's grown a heart that cares deeply for others.


As I paint over vibrant green, I wonder how many coats of grey it will take.


But isn’t that how it is? We alter our appearance, but underneath, there’s still a trace of who we once were. 




I’m thankful for my first chance to be with my adult-sized grandson and help him create a new room image—I bet this will last until he leaves home in a couple more years. 


This first chance to be alone with him could well be my final chance to do something like this. Life goes by quickly.


So, I’m enjoying every paint stroke, and the laughter and love we shared in the process of change.




Popular posts from this blog

Counting the Cost

Image
Something big is missing in this photo. Let me explain. Here in my hometown, the Lower Elwha Klallam Tribe prepared a parcel of land for a new hotel. Plenty of planning and architectural designs were evaluated. A gemstone of a hotel would be built across from the waterfront—a beautiful, restful place welcoming travelers. A true four-star facility.   They cleared the aging brick structures that had been fading away between Front Street and Railroad Avenue. Then the pandemic hit, shortages of labor and supplies, add in the costly inflation that followed. Everything stopped.   But this is what I admire about the Elwha Tribe: they have counted the cost. They didn’t want to move forward and take on tremendous debt. They would rather move slowly and be financially ready, rather than begin building and then letting it sit unfinished.   Counting the cost is something I should have done earlier in life when I didn’t know what high interest rates would do to our farming cost...
Read more

Summertime Music

Image
During the summer months, in an outside seating area, a delightfully painted piano sits with a sign that says, “Play me”.   It was just before 8 pm as I walked past the piano. My bus would be arriving soon, and I still have another ten minutes to walk before reaching my bus stop. But no one is around. It’s a beautiful warm evening. I pulled out the piano bench and sat down. The sun was behind me, and the piano keys reflected its glow. I had no music in front of me, only the songs within me. Notes drifted into the air.  In those brief moments, the magic of music and summer came together. Isn’t that how it is? Summertime music has a way of lingering in our minds and lasting a lifetime. As I stood and grabbed my things, I heard distant clapping—I guess I wasn’t alone, after all.
Read more

Planting Good Seeds

Image
Harvest will always depend on what we plant and how well we care for our crop.    Looking over my seed packets, I notice they’re different than the ones I planted before. One package is called Word seeds. The directions say that each of my words is a seed, so it cautions me to think before I speak. Harsh words don’t produce sweet, nourishing fruit. These seeds will require thoughtful care in the garden. I see some Volunteer seeds. Those extra hours I tend to fritter away are going to be planted in a useful project.   It looks like time isn’t wasted in this garden plot. Next are some Love seeds—the directions are interesting: get up each day and love others. No specifics are given—just do something for someone every day. The seed package shows pictures of smiling faces. I smile back. As I’m ready to head to the garden with my seeds, a package falls to the ground. I open it. Inside are the tiniest seeds I’ve ever seen—but the directions s...
Read more