Grace and "It's All in the Getting' There!"
“The answer must be, I think, that beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.
”
Twelve and a half ago I had become a mother for the fourth time. We were living in a little basement suite that we affectionately called the Hobbit Hole. While it did lack the charming round doors and larder filled with rounds of cheese and strings of sausage, it was pretty cute. But the fact remained that it was a tiny space for six people, I was a mom of a newborn, I had three more little people, and I was overwhelmed.
The particular day I am remembering was a grey and dismal January. I was experiencing exhaustion with a tinge of depression. My husband was at work and I was weighing my options for the day. Stay at home cooped up with my darling, squirmy, and energetic troupe or venture out with all the snacks, blankies, strollers, diapers, and car seats that that entailed.
And then Grace arrived. My friend knocked on the door and ducked through our door frame (most people have to duck into a Hobbit hole) with her 5 year old Audrey behind her. She looked at my glazed and relieved eyes and said, “Hey guys! We’re going to Granville Island!” Granville Island. A haven of beautiful market smells, art galleries, and coffee shops all beside the ocean with boardwalk AND a playground!
She proceeded to pack us, and all our paraphernalia, into her mini van and we headed out. I could feel the angst and baby blues melting away as we drove. That I had such a thoughtful and selfless friend was mind blowing and humbling. Definitely a watch and learn moment. But it wasn’t until we started to direct our little gaggle to the market for a pre-playground coffee-to-go that the sweet wisdom really came.
Our little people were chatting and laughing and pausing to look at everything from the art displays in the window to the fresh seagull poop on a bench. I, however, was solely focused on the destination and started prompting them to quit dawdling and move their little legs. Then came the phrase that I would come to hear many times over the years. “Hey...it’s all in the gettin’ there. They won’t be little like this for very long.”
Simple, right? But, not. That statement, "all in the gettin’ there", said so much. My eyebrows unfurrowed. My breathing slowed down and deepened. It seemed that I had an instant perspective shift. When I looked at the kids again I saw delight. Fresh seagull poop would not be hilarious forever. Feeding pigeons and jumping over (and in) puddles would lose their appeal.
Of course, in the ensuing years I would need a thousand reminders that “it’s all in the gettin’ there”. Those puddlejumping moments aren’t so adorable when you’re late for a doctor’s appointment or you have people coming for dinner. But those simple words, nonetheless, changed me.
Just a few months ago Grace and I were taking our dogs for a walk while our teenage kids were off doing their own stuff. As we walked along the trails in our neighborhood we passed a woman walking with her toddlers. The little people were having a lovely time picking up twigs and saying hello to our dogs. We were smiling down at the kids and as we made brief small talk with the mom, I noticed the tension in her face; the furrowed brow and hands subtly pushing her kids forward.
As we went on our way Grace turned to me, “Aww. I wish I could have told her it’s all in the gettin’ there.” Me too Grace.
