Matching Shoes

Today was one of those defining moments as a parent. (Sounds serious huh?) At approxmately 7:00 p.m. 16 years ago I gave birth to my first born son, Andrew, in Portland Oregon. He was born, all 9lbs and 10oz of him at home with an amazing midwife. I remember the flood of emotion (and his huge head) like it was yesterday.

I was flung back in time by a small incident in a church meeting I attended today. I walked in late and sat next to a young mother balancing her newborn son on her lap. Today was his blessing day and he was dressed all in white. I flashed back to a similiar day nearly 16 years ago when I was that same mom.

Because we were living away from all our family and friends, the only family who attended Andrew's blessing were my brother and his wife. The small little circle that surrounded our precious (although screaming) baby was a snapshot in my life photo album I will never forget. It was perfect. Surreal but perfect.

Later in the church meeting I looked down at my feet and to my HORROR realized I had on two different shoes. I had taught a class earlier to a group of young women and had interacted with many church members during the services. I felt so inadequate. Those kind souls didn't embarrass me to my face but I am sure they had some great dinner conversation that afternoon.

"Anything interesting happen at church today?" Dad asks the family.

"I don't remember any of my lessons but my teacher had on two different shoes," replies teen age girl chuckling.

"Oh, she's a new mom and they get kind of overwhelmed sometimes," says kind mom taking a trip down memory lane. "It gets easier over time."

As I watched this young mother today (who by the way did have on matching shoes), I thought it does get easier but it is never simple. I felt as if I had blinked and my life moved into warp drive and propelled me through a worm hole 16 years into the future. Where had the years gone?

I must say I don't stress about unmatching shoes anymore (since I still do on occassion venture out in public with mismatched shoes) and I realize that most people are too busy worrying about their own crazy lives to judge me. Relationships matter more than the external stuff and the more I focus on relationships the less I care about the external stuff. I am going to chant that to myself next time I trip over underwear in the bathroom.