Families Are Forever

The hours of my son's senior year have been ticking by, seemingly 24 at a time, simultaneously rolling each day into a new month as graduation day looms just ahead in the coming spring.  I have to admit, I have been struggling with the realization that my eldest son is about to leap from the shelter of his childhood home, while my youngest daughter is hanging on his coat tails just three years shy of each milestone.  Recently, I framed Christian's new senior portrait and Karissa's latest school photo from her Freshman year.  Next, I needed to find a good spot to hang them...

Early this morning, as the weather was such that my husband would be spending the day in the field, and morning hadn't quite dawned enough to wake my children, I wandered around my living room, coffee cup in hand, quietly adoring the decorations and photographs already on display.  A variety of frames lining the cedar chest and end tables throughout the room caught my eye.  I picked up a photo of my grandparents and admired it with respect.  I carefully tucked it back into its place amid a variety of other frames containing random family snapshots, portraits of grandparents, great-grandparents, uncles and aunts, and even a few ancestors from longer ago.  Taking a sip of my coffee, I glanced around the room.  Many walls in my house had been rearranged, even remodeled, in recent years; but one wall in my living room had remained the same for over five years.  The arrangement still displayed an assortment of sizes and poses of my husband and I with the kids taken by a professional photographer in early 2009.  My finger tested for dust from the top of one of the frames as I reminisced of the days when my children were much younger.  Their big grins in one of the photographs reminded me of the funny comment my husband had made that day to encourage them to smile.  The assortment of frames and photos in various sizes and shapes hung in a carefully designed arrangement on the wall.  Strategically placed amid the frames were three sticky-backed, calligraphy style words stating "Families ... Are ... Forever ... "   I tenderly tipped one of the frames to assure it was straight, then I stepped back to admire the arrangement one final time.

I thoughtfully recalled the day that I hung them.  My mother had come over to help me eyeball the inches and move them by "tishes" to the left or right before pounding each nail into the wall.  As my mother and I hung each frame, I hid a secret from her, that the reason I needed to get the photos hung “asap” was because my brothers were both coming home (and bringing my soon-to-be-future-sister-in-law).  We had been planning a surprise 60th birthday party in her honor and she couldn't know that they were going to be spending the entire day at my house before we surprised her at the golf course that night.  Little did I know that it would turn out to be the last time I would host both of my brothers at my house for a Bohr-sibling gathering.

With that memory, I timidly gathered the photos off the wall, leaving only random nails and a variety of scuffs, scratches and marks giving proof to the length of time the arrangement had been displayed.  In the morning light, I stared at the now glaringly empty wall.  The words  "Families ... Are ... Forever" suddenly stood out even more distinctly, and the stark emptiness gave me an eerie feeling as it screamed out into the quiet of the living room.  Tightening my robe in a bit of a hug, I pondered the method I should use to remove the nails, fill the holes, and erase the marks and words from the wall.  I wondered if I would have to repaint.

In the meantime, I took a moment to admire the newly framed portraits of the kids that I was hoping to display.  Amazement and pride overwhelmed me as I noticed how Christian's once baby face had been replaced by handsome manly features, and Karissa's bright blue eyes, perfectly adorned with makeup, made her a woman of striking beauty.  Gazing at each portrait, I finally decided to hang them on a couple of the old nails that remained in the wall, just to get a feel for how I would possibly want to arrange the new display.  Once I hung them on the wall, I was astonished to find that with just a few nail adjustments, the new photographs of my children would fit perfectly amid those original, small but prominent words "Families ... Are ... Forever".

As I studied the new, still haphazard arrangement, a sense of peace came over me.  I was suddenly filled with metaphors on the grand design of life.  I realized that just as the arrangement of photographs will be replaced by newer, even better photographs of the very same family members, so our family lives are only primed to get better.  The scuffs, scratches and marks that we acquired through the years, will always remain as subtle reminders of where our experiences have taken us.  Just as some photos are eventually taken down and stowed away in special cedar chests or drawers, so the days of Christian’s and Karissa's childhoods will always be found in my memories, along with those of my own early years, tucked tenderly inside my heart.  

As my thoughts and the memories carried me away, I found myself  intrigued by the fact that the new frames happened to fit excellently among the words that had originally been cut to fit the earlier and much different design.  That was when it hit me.  As my children make their way toward adulthood, it is true, our daily lives will never be quite the same -- but our lives will not be ending and my job as their mother will never be complete.  The arrangement of our day-to-day will definitely be taking on a new form in coming years, as each member sets out to follow their own path in life.   However, it is comforting to know that, no matter how we may arrange it, despite the paths, miles and sunsets that may separate us, the grand design of our family, like those perfectly stated words, will always remain.  I know in my heart, that "Families ... REALLY Are .... and ALWAYS WILL BE .... Forever!"