Swinging

A few weeks back, I made the statement that "I wanted to swing". My good friends (and you know who you are!) teased me as only good friends could as they inquired if I meant adopting the unconventional lifestyle of the 70's . It was funny to think that this Mom of four would think about "swinging" in that manner. I'm typically so exhausted by the end of the day (hell, I'm exhausted by the beginning of the day!), that the thought of swinging seems best left to a well spun, but perhas short-lived television series.

No - this Mom of four - simply meant that she missed swinging in a swing. I had spent the afternoon pushing my kids on the swings. Each had their own style for swinging - but each wanted to swing high enough to touch the sky. Even Lucas just 15 months old loved the freedom of swinging. His huge smile as he kicked back his head to catch the breeze told me that he realized - even at a young age - how precious it was to swing. It was as if he, like his siblings, understood the power of the swings. He understood the power of freedom. He was free to fly - free to dream that you could reach heights you never thought possible. As I watched all my children swing in a row, I prayed that they would never forgot that feeling. The feeling that the impossible was possible and that no matter how high you might go, there would always be solid ground below you to break your fall - no matter how hard it may be. That's the power of the swing. It is the belief that you can soar and know there is a solid foundation below you. And sometimes it is about knowing who is next to you on the swing - breathing in the same moment and understanding the simple beauty of the swing and the freedom - even for a moment - that it brings.

[NOTE: this was drafted in July ... not sure why it was never posted!]