The God of the Doorway

I'm sitting here facing the end of Christmas break - only a few quick more days - and I'm trying to find perspective. I just discovered that the Month of January is named after the Roman god Janus, the god of the doorway (Seamus told me). This really struck me. I feel as though I'm standing in a doorway - looking back and looking forward - standing in that place of in between.

Seamus, this morning you cuddled into bed with me.  It feels like a long time since we've had that kind of sweet, quiet time to talk about the day, our plans for the week and our favorite moments of the break. I must have told you five times how much I love being your mother, how glad I am that you love school so much, but that I miss you all so much when its time for you to go back.

I always feel rushed during a school vacation. Dad and I cannot help but notice how much you've changed and grown over the year.  You're taller, more thoughtful (if that is possible), more confident, more peaceful. Third grade has been so good for you. You continue to devour books - we cannot keep the kindle loaded up. Right now you're finishing The Lord of the Rings trilogy and we talked about the story and our favorite characters this morning.  You love Samwise.  Of course you do.  The big-hearted, loyal friend who at very his core knows what is true and good. He is heroic, obedient, and fun. So familiar to me.

I can see how quickly childhood ends and I worry about how soon that door will close for you. I promise to hold it open as long, as long, as long as I can. And yet, I look through the door and see so much excitement and promise for you. You're thirsty for all sort of experiences and understandings - you tackle everything with joy and enthusiasm. I am so grateful to be sharing this doorway with you.

Finnypie, you are a bundle of energy and capacity right now.  You move through everything so quickly, efficiently. Up for school, backpack packed, ready and waiting at the door.  I've said several times to Dad that I feel like we should sign you up for more activities because you have such capacity. Basketball just started and its been hysterical. You desperately wanted uncle Jimmy to come to your first game, but I told you that the timing wasn't great because aunt Mary got so sick before Christmas this year. You were quietly upset in a very sort of Finny way. I promised I'd come watch and you hugged me like I'd just given you the world. I went to the game and you score at least 14 point (of the 22).  Other parents kept asking me what leagues you were in, what camps I'd sent you to, etc.  I had to laugh out loud and tell them this was your first team, your first real game. You're so focused, so excited. It was delightful watching you thrive and have fun. I know this begins a lifetime of watch your successes from the sidelines. Swimming also starts this week and I can't wait to see what the season brings, you're so excited to get back in the pool too.  You've come a long way since the worries of kindergarten.

At conferences this year, we learned that you finish every day by asking the teacher how you can help her - empty garbage, pack other kids bags, stack the chairs. I cannot put to words how happy this made dad and I.  Ms. Dobihal told us that she asked each child who their special friends are in the class. She showed us your list which had a sweet group of kids, but she told us that every other child in the class put you on their list. You make people feel good about themselves. She told us that you'd gone out of your way for the new boy in class - working to make sure he was involved in the games and activities. At the first grade para-liturgy this year, I was interrupted by two parents when I was chatting with the mom who's son was the new boy in your class (she was thanking me for how good you've been to him). Mr. Waud and another parent who's name I didn't catch just wanted to tell me what an incredible boy you are. I have to admit I was a little speechless. If you can make this your life, continue to be this kind of goodness in the world, you will be the richest man alive. You make us so proud.

Mary Jeanne, you fill me up. I still miss you every time you walk out the door to school. But I am so grateful for Mrs. Katzenmaier. At your conferences, I went in with a list of things I wanted to talk about - your speech, your letters etc. The first thing that Gail told us was that she was so grateful that you were in her room this year - that you are sparkly and joyful.  You bring kindness to the room. She told me that your speech and your letters are all on track, that she often finds you helping the other kids with scissors or zippers.  You're small for your grade, but you seem older.  She told us that when you walk down the hall, the older kids all say hello to you. You're so friendly with everyone - I think you've become a sort of mascot for the older girls who patrol the lines to and from school.

You're starting swim team this year and you're nervous. We've told you that swim team isn't a choice - its just something that we all get to do. I am so aware that you're young for kindergarten much younger than the boys were, young to have expectations of joining the swim team, but I know once you get started you'll do great. I'll be with you, dad will too. Its hard to see you be afraid because you're usually so fearless - but you'll not have to face the fear alone. That's what we're here for to help you handle the challenges that come along.

Thomas, wow, you are no longer my baby.  You are all toddling boy. I can't say you're walking yet - but you don't do anything slowly. You take 3 or four steps and then drop to your knees, put your head down and race. You are still loud, laughing and loving. You were sick over the holidays - a fever on Christmas eve - and so you surely weren't yourself - but even feeling under the weather you still smile more than any other kid I know.

You love blueberries, your knit blankie, blowing raspberries, tennis balls (any kind of ball really) and you love getting love. We laugh at your all the time because you're a bit like a puppy - the kids roll a ball for your to retrieve - it's a game that never seems to get old. You still love the backpack and I lug you around all over the place and you wave and smile at people around us. You adore daddy. Every time he walks into a room you squeal with delight. I cannot tell you how good that makes him feel. Young as you are, you appreciate him all the time. It should be more bitter sweet, watching you grow, but you bring such light that I cannot feel sad. I have enjoyed your babyhood more than I thought possible - and yet I know this time we're facing will be thrilling (and terrifying) too.

James, we've been together 15 years now (married more than 12) and I wish I could package up what it is that we have - wish I could measure out the ingredients and give it away. You are the perfect gift of my life - never more clear than in this last year.  You came home from Demontraville with great focus and clarity it helped us all find perspective leading into the holiday - you are the steady rock of our family, generous, patient and loving. You challenge us to be better than we were yesterday, support us all in the process of growing, and form the sturdy bedrock of our family. When we met, we were not the people that we are today.  Not only younger and less experienced but more self-centered, more focused on the temporal and less the sacred. I don't know how that changed? What event made the difference? All I can think is that little by little, moment by moment true love makes us better.

I am proud of our direction, proud of the path that we are forging, grateful for the view along the way.

So as I sit here in this doorway thinking about what is behind us and what is ahead, I am grateful. I'm grateful for healthy bodies, true love, big families, safe homes, and all the bounty in our lives. I am grateful that the doorway opens into a room with opportunity to grow, that it is a passageway from fleeting but precious times.

Janus maybe a forgotten god, but I am grateful that God is not forgotten. We feel the warmth of our faith during this cold month and it is the heat that glows and grows into each new year.