How is it that on the very same weekend my teenaged son drove in the rain, in the dark to an overnight with his youth group, AND I bought my first pair of reader glasses.
I'm 41. And it's not really old. It's just older. And when we watched old family videos lately I couldn't even believe that my oldest was 11. Now he's very nearly 17. And often he's a better driver than I am.
So when it was time to go to the Youth Group overnight last night it really made no sense for one of the older glasses-wearing-adults to drive him. He could manage. And of course he did.
But I was an absolute basket case. Absolute.
It probably didn't help that earlier in the day my minister colleague had handed me her reader glasses and told me to get over it and wear them. Oh, I could see! The print was all legible and clear and I could see! But when I took them off, well, then I COULDN'T see.
So, I figured I'd just have to swallow hard and step up and buy glasses that would let me see. So I did.
Now I'd better go to the eye doctor and get real glasses and maybe they'll even be bifocals.
**sigh**
It's a new chapter. Maybe even a whole new book of the master series. Career that follows children, and empty nesting, and retirement and grandchildren and maybe I'm getting ahead of myself.
But children grow up and learn to drive and mothers grow older and they need glasses. It doesn't matter if your eyes sting with tears. That doesn't help you see. Not at all.
Big sigh.
Skillet Cornbread
1 week ago
