Growing Up • 2006
The hard work of growing up, like education or even salvation, appears to have an ending only to those who have not yet begun it in earnest. For Providence presents us with challenges that grow as we do, always asking us to rise a little higher than we have before. In the twilight of 2006 we come to Christmas, a direct celebration of incarnation and of growth, reflecting back upon how far we have come.
Jessie, ten months old now and nearly triple her birth weight, knows well the hard work of growing up. This year she has learned everything she knows: first to smile and then to laugh uproariously, to eat solid food and smear it in her hair, to crawl, to pull every cereal box from the kitchen shelf, and to squeal with delight. She has fended off countless daycare-bred ailments and always worked tirelessly to keep her grandparents wrapped around her very little finger.
Neely and I are growing up, too, immersed in the hard work of chasing dreams. As you read this today, she has completed her coursework and will wrap up her Masters thesis in the spring. My PhD work continues, teaching me more everyday, with all the boxes now checked except the all-important research projects. We look forward to times when growing up won't be so stressful! In the meanwhile we have found some wonderful escapes: time to stay home together after Jessie was born, time to host a large and loving crowd at Jessie's christening, time to be with friends at three Alabama reunions. We even had a rare opportunity to visit Prague and its vicinity. Come fall, we loved being a part of another characteristically festive Ellefson wedding, as Conoly and Matt tied the knot. Thanksgiving in Virginia gave us a great escape from the city, even if a stomach bug soon had Steve and Tammy nursing us back to health. (Thanks again, y'all!)
As we grow up, we do not face our tasks alone. Neely, Jessie, and I grow into each other, becoming more integral and less separable every day. We have been helped along the way by those familiar guides, our parents, who have been simply wonderful in staying with us, babysitting, cooking, cleaning, and supporting us in every possible way. We're deeply thankful. We are also thankful to our friends, lending light hearts and human faces to our routines, forcing us (kicking and screaming) to get out of the house at least occasionally.
And in the midst of all this work and growth, for brief and vivid moments, the contingencies align. Walking down the street, we know everybody, and wave to greet them, and sing out loud as we go. (Dylan again: "Them I won't forget, but you I'll remember always.") Why not? As Bishop Westcott might have said, we have grown, we are growing, and we will grow. Every grin and giggle of my little daughter reminds me that no, we are not old yet. We wish you the very best—may you and your singing joy grow up through this and every new year.