It’s a peculiar how the dynamics between parents and children change as God and time turn them into grown-ups. Of course those of us on the parent side of things have the advantage of having been there, done that. We remember the lack of wisdom from early adulthood. But everyone forgets some things.

I remember my dad and oldest brother had their strong opinions of what my career path should be. The problem was that I too had a strong opinion. I went another way. They were none too happy at the time. They knew they were smarter than I was, but that’s the gift of free will.

Back at my moment of decision, part of me, a big part, wanted to write. They told me I had a bit of a knack for it. You like hearing that kind of stuff when you’re a kid. Especially when you usually heard the opposite.

On occasion I’ll get a picture from my mom of something I’ve written, drawn, or painted from when I was a kid. Things I’d forgotten all about. Some of them are good, so good I have to double check to make sure it was my work.

It’s tough being a kid and having the gift, and responsibility that feels like a mountain, to choose your path in this life. Especially when you don’t have the time kicking up dust on this ball to have the wisdom to make the best choice.

It’s easier for some kids. Our middle daughter knew since childhood she wanted to be a nurse like her mom. She is. And she’ll be an NP by the end of August. The oldest listened to me and went the business direction. After a couple of semesters she changed her mind and went the medical route too. She’s an NP now.

The youngest is not following suit. She’s on a different path, even though part of her is drawn to the medical field like her mom and sisters. She’s got enough credits now, as a Junior, to graduate honors college, with honors, and with a degree in creative writing. She’s going to hang in to get her minor in sustainability.

While I don’t make a living writing words, it is a hobby. I enjoy it. I also enjoy writing songs. I have five of them being produced now. The desire to create is knitted into our DNA by God. And it doesn’t have to be seen or heard by the masses to find gratification from the process.

My lyrics are like nursery rhymes. My youngest’s lyrics have matured into contemporary literature. She’s forgotten her early days.

I was searching through old posts yesterday knowing I have limited time to write with all that I’m endeavoring these days. I stumbled upon one from May of 2011. Here is what I found within that post;

the poem

This is the picture of the poem I took with my phone and sent to my daughter. Just the picture, no words. She texted me back twenty minutes later;

“Did you write that?” It’s great!!!”

I texted her back; “No. You did. In 7th grade.”

I’d shared her poem in a post back when she was in Junior High School. I’d forgotten all about it just like her.

She’ll make her way. She won’t follow precisely the path I think she should, or anybody else for that matter. None of us do or have. As long as she belongs to God I know He’ll guide her to His path for her life.

I know, because I’ve been there, done that.