If I could turn back the page and find the chapter of a week ago…
I’d be rushing through a morning, brushing little teeth, tying shoe laces,
hopping in the car to drive two hours to the airport.
I would come home that afternoon, one less passenger,
unaware that the week ahead would prove difficult, overwhelming,
that tears would be shed,
that the very walls would witness heaviness of spirit.
But, neither did I see the moments
of smiles when a picture was drawn in crayon on a green page,
of dancing when a DVD arrived from Afghanistan,
of giggles in the morning, toddler time snuggles,
of being rescued both physically and emotionally by ones who love us.
If I could run backward, and end up last year,
I would be running in the door from the gym,
swapping a bag loaded with a water bottle, towel, and membership card
for one filled with swimsuits, sand shovels, sunblock and oversized towels.
We would head to the beach, shoulders tan from a long summer.
The idea of moving to the Colorado mountains would simply be hypothetical,
and the journey through another deployment seemed distant,
mere cloudy hues in the bright San Diego sun.
If I could turn the clock and find myself a girl of five years ago,
I would be on top of the world,
and yet sick as could be.
Still basking in the glow
of one whole married year
to the man who was
more than my dreams.
Newly expecting a baby,
praying daily that we’d actually hold this little one.
I would have just stood as a bridesmaid,
clothed in laughter and purple,
unaware that only four months later
the groom would reach ahead and grasp eternity.
If I could bend the calendar and see ten years ago,
I’d be a bright eyed teen
in a pink flowered jumper I had made myself,
espresso dark hair to my hips.
I would be helping with breakfast
for a family of four
in a home overflowing with light and joy.
I would be few of friends,
but have a mailbox full of letters bearing pen pal addresses.
I would pore over magazines with black and white pictures.
I would have no idea that within a year
our family would receive the first shaking
of long-held ideas.
Nor that, 366 days later,
we’d be mourning the untimely death of
a beloved uncle.
I couldn’t have seen I was living in the end of an era.
If I could jump into a timeline and land twenty years ago,
I would be a pony-tailed girl
in a polka dot sundress and pink dinosaur high tops.
I would have a mama who was newly following Jesus
and I would be singing The Butterfly Song with Psalty
in the back seat of our Volkswagen.
We would be just months away from welcoming
a new little dark haired boy
to our tiny family.
My daddy would be starting a new job,
a firefighter in a California desert city.
He would swing me into his arms and dance with me in the kitchen.
My heart was safe and innocent.
I didn’t know,
in these long-ago days,
that this earthly life is filled with change,
with pain,
with love,
with heartache,
with joy.
Some days, I wish to go back.
I long to be the unseen hand,
changing life courses
and altering
a moment
an action
a look.
But would I,
truly?
{I don’t know.}
“I could have missed the pain,
but I’d have had to
miss
the
dance.”
~from a song I can hardly listen to, because it always makes me cry
Look back, a week ago, twenty years ago?
What of your dance?
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