Winds

As I sat on my patio, I watched the American flag dancing in the wind. As the gusts flew stronger, it became so tangled around the pole and its own halyard that it was hard to imagine how it would ever fly freely again.

And yet within a matter of minutes it did.

Shortly thereafter, a rainbow manifested across the clouded sky. Moments later it was gone.

As the sunset approached, the winds directed their energy across the tree tops - each little branch swaying like hundreds of little children shuffling around a playground.

The gloaming then made its ways around the sky, a radiant orange sitting on cloud tops.

The wind soon whisked the clouds away, leaving an empty and calm sky.

Invisible forces of wind and light shape shifted my view many times over within a matter of fifteen minutes. So significant and varied the change one might have thought it was time lapse photography.

And so it can be with change. It can bring something beautiful into your life and then just as quickly whisk it away, only to bring something different but equally inspiring before your eyes soon after.

A day earlier, I was in another windy setting. Sitting on a football field, watching my oldest daughter graduate high school, giving the valedictorian’s speech.

Seeing her stand in front of hundreds of people, speaking with such poise, perspective, vulnerability and confidence, I felt immense pride. I also realized that these winds of change were coming for me too.

Beginning in the fall, she will be off to college and I will no longer have a front row seat to the beauty and energy of her shifting transitions traipsing across our shared sky on a daily basis.

I find this thought devastating. As a result, I try to avoid it as much as possible. Watching her on that graduation stage, it was unavoidable.

On Father’s Day a few days later, I found myself reading this article on that same patio. It was a daughter reflecting upon the impact of her father both in life and after his passing. I found some comfort in its closing where she writes, “He always comes along with me in my mind.”

Years ago my daughter asked for my help with a science project. Each night, she asked if I would go outside with her to observe the phase of the moon. I find solace - perhaps even some excitement - in being able to bring her “along in my mind” whenever I want or need to in the fall. Looking up into that same sky, knowing that underneath that same moon - a few hundred miles away - she may be doing the same. Imagining what wonderful experiences she brought to life that day.

Recommendation of the Week: Last night I stumbled upon the movie, Paper Moon. It is a touching and funny film about a father and daughter finding each other. If you haven’t seen it, check it out. You’ll be blown away by the 9-year old Tatum O’Neal’s Oscar winning performance and moved by their connection.

Consider sharing this with someone dealing with the winds of change in their lives right now.