One Day

I took the kids to the park the other day. 

We had time to kill before Daddy got home from work, Adeline had massive amounts of energy to burn by climbing the same slide over and over and over again, and Gideon had a sweet little nap to take in the warm sunshine.

It was just the 3 of us when we first arrived. Gideon watched leaves wave on the tree he was under while I pushed Adeline in a swing while she demanded that I twy to swing hew weally weally high! 

It was peaceful, it was quiet, it was serene. Then a single car full of on about 8 or so teenagers made an abrupt stop in two parking spots, and a herd of what Philip calls [skinny-jeaned, long-haired, headband-wearing] "hipsters"  jumped out.

Their cigarettes and lighters were out faster than their feet even hit the gravel. 

The girls were giggling, and the guys were making jokes in loud obnoxious voices. 

Mirrors/ headphones/ cellphones accompanied the hands that weren't holding beer cans. 

Each one of them grabbed a swing and don't you know my overly-friendly kid wanted to swing right next to them and talk to them and beg for a playmate on the slide a few feet away.

Some of the kids ignored her, some of them smiled as they tried to interpret what she was saying, and a couple of them made typical teenage remarks under his breath.

They were totally cool kids, and it didn't take long for them to realize that our company was a little too uncool.

So they took their cigarettes underneath the pavillian, while I tried to distract my daughter from following them.

I used to think I was cool like that.

and while part of me started to remember those days of mine that really aren't too historic yet, most of me was just consumed with sorrow.

I was really sorry that these pretty, young, girls felt desperate enough to be throwing themselves at these losers. 

I was really sorry that these guys seemed incapable of speaking a single sentence with out the f-bomb.

I was really sorry that the most important thing in these kid's lives seemed to probably be the high they got from whatever they were smoking/drinking/sexing.

I then realized how important my job is. 

I'm here to help raise these kids with a Holy heart.

I want these babies of mine to have a need to live and breath for Jesus. I want them to know His love.

Being "a good person" just isn't enough.

Calling ourselves "Christian" is stopping short.

I hope I can be the kind of parent God wants me to be. 

It's a really important job, you know. 

and while imagining my kids as teenagers and wondering what they might do while I'm not there is more than I'm wanting to think about right now. 

I know there is a little seed in them, and it's my job to nurture it so they can be something awesome. Now and for years and years to come.

Until then, I'm just going to keep pushing my innocent little baby on this park swing, while we watch the world and find our place.