Time In a Bottle

Good Wednesday morning!

I told you in an earlier post that I had met up with two old friends during the holiday break. (We've been friends for well over 20 years now.) We were ridiculously young together... we went on trips together... we were in each other's weddings... we had babies. In other words, we share a lot of history. I'm saying all of the above because I read a little article called "Betty's Mother" by Patricia Wilson I would like to share with you.

Betty's Mother

Most of the time, I don't notice that I'm growing older. In some far recess of my mind, my biological clock seems to have stopped at thirty-three years. My mental self-image has no gray in her hair, the wrinkles haven't taken hold, and her chin is still singular.

Occasionally, I catch a glimpse of a much older woman in the bathroom mirror, but I just put that down to bad lighting. When I meet the parents of my children's friends, I am always surprised at how old they look. "Must have started late," I tell myself, ignoring the fact that I was a late-blooming parent myself. And if the policeman who stops my car at the road check seems young enough to be my son, I just assume he's a new recruit.

All in all, I feel that I have my aging process pretty well under control.

Until, that is, I met Betty again. Betty and I had attended elementary school together and high school after that. Even when we parted to go our separate ways -- she to teachers' college and I to a technical school -- we still kept in touch. Then we moved on to our own lives and careers. Briefly, we met again when I was a bridesmaid at her wedding, and several months later she came to mine. We didn't meet again for over twenty years, although we did occasionally exchange notes and change-of-address cards.

Through the usual kind of corporate moves, she and her family ended up in Ottawa. To our mutual delight, I was now living a scant hour's drive away. We had never been physically closer. A reunion was in order.

We agreed to meet on our own first before we brought our families together. It seemed fairer to get all of our "do you remembers..." out of the way. Neither of us felt we had to wear a rose in our lapel to distinguish us from the crowd. We'd know each other anywhere!

When I arrived, I asked the maitre d' whether Mrs. St. Onge was there yet. She wasn't. I settled back to wait.

Then, Betty's mother came through the door! Well, it wasn't Betty's mother... it was Betty. Somehow, I hadn't expected her to look a bit different from my old school friend. I certainly hadn't expected her to look -- how can I put it delicately? -- middle-aged!

After all, I hadn't changed. Why should she? Then I saw Betty staring at me in the same open-mouthed surprise. Could it be that I now looked like my mother? Impossible! Could it be that I was also middle-aged? Unthinkable!

I don't really like growing older, mind you. But I'm glad my spiritual body is a lot easier to maintain. In fact, it becomes stronger each day that I walk with the Lord. My faith deepens; my hope grows; my peace abides. The spiritual body thrives on daily use.

Back to Belinda

I think Ms. Wilson is very wise, don't you? To be able to admit her distaste of growing older, but to also be able to see the benefits of having a spiritual body. I think sometimes we have a hard time seeing past the physical to the spiritual... I know I do.

My friend, Celeste, was looking at a scrapbook I had brought to our little breakfast which chronicled our lives as friends from 1988 to 1992. We laughed and laughed, and we almost cried. We kept saying over and over again, "We looked so good. And we didn't even know it!"

As I looked at Celeste and Alesia that day a couple of weeks ago, the 20-somethings were still in there. I could see them very clearly. Celeste with her always matching accessories and her long manicured fingernails and her big blue eyes. Alesia with her flair for anything and everything fashionable and her cute wrinkled nose when she laughed and her ready smile. They are just as beautiful now as they were 20+ years ago. In fact, I think they look even better.

Life (and kids) can take it out of you... but having the daily relationship with God can certainly put it back in you!

Now, for our new tradition!

Time in a Bottle

This one is an oldie from Family Fun Magazine. If you keep them, it is the February, 2000 issue.

On New Year's Day, jot down or draw your kids' favorite books, foods, songs, etc. on pieces of paper. Also, add their height and weight measurements. (Of course, if your children are old enough, let them write their own information in their own handwriting.) Slip the sheets into an empty soft drink bottle and hide it away until the next January 1. On that date, you can reread the notes together. Your kids may be surprised by how much they have changed. Write new notes to hide until the next New Year's Day.

Fun Variation #1 - Add a rolled up picture of each member of your family... maybe wearing a piece (or all) of their favorite clothing.

Fun Variation #2 - You can all go in the back yard or your flower bed on New Year's Day and with a shovel, bury your time capsule. Put duct tape around the top of the drink bottle after you put the lid on tightly. Then put the drink bottle in a plastic rubber maid container with a good seal. Also, duct tape the container lid to keep things from getting wet. Dig it up on New Year's Eve (or New Year's Day) of the next year. (NOTE: It's fun to dig it up New Year's Eve in the dark with flashlights. It gives it that "hidden treasure" feel, and the kids will love it.)

You (the adult) will probably have to "cut" the top part of the bottle off to get all of the papers and pictures out easily.

I got my days mixed up yesterday and said I would have a fun date for today... but you know that Date Day is on Thursday, don't you? You should! (I should!!!) Anyway, just a little added anticipation for tomorrow's fun date.

Have a great Wednesday, and I'll talk to you tomorrow.