Looking Back

I was sitting beside my Grandmother and my son Connor today waiting for the musical, "Into the Woods," to begin. My daughter Caitlin had one of the lead roles as Cinderella. I had to get on the road back to my new home in Mesquite, Texas, and was ready for the show to get on the road.
The lights finally dimmed and it was only a few minutes until I saw her. My Caitlin, in her gown fit for a ball and Cinderella slippers that made her look like, well, uh, a young lady. This was not my beautiful little chubby cheeked girl I brought to Lubbock eleven years ago. The actress, singer, and dancer was a beautiful lady closer to leaving her Daddy's home than she was yesterday. I fought back tears and watched a brilliant matinee performance. I kissed her cheek when the show was over and told her I had to get back home to work. I got in my truck to head East, and fought back more tears.
I reached Weatherford and pulled off the Interstate to get gas and a Diet Coke. When I walked into the doors of the convenience store I was stricken with a vision. Thirteen years ago I walked through the same doors of this same convenience store one very early Christmas morning on the way to Lubbock to spend Christmas with my parents. Caitlin was a 1-1/2 month old infant, sleeping in her car seat in the back seat of our Ford Explorer. I couldn't believe how beautiful she and her mother were, nor, how blessed I was to have them be my girls. I wish now that I would have understood how important it was to gather up memories and store them in my heart.
I've had more time alone lately on the road to think more than I ought, but I've learned a lot about myself and life in general in those lonely moments with only the highway and my Lord.
Nearly 11 years ago, I moved back to Lubbock with a 2-year-old and a pregnant wife. Now I've moved away while the kids finish school and Chrissy gets a house... no, a home ready sell. I miss them every day and cherish the brief times we're together lately.
I've thought about the good times we've celebrated in that home together. Bringing home a tiny son and little brother. Birthday parties. Back yard fun. Teaching kids to catch and throw. Cooking barbecue on the back porch. Building the worlds worst back fence. Loving and being loved by an awesome church in Westmont. Having my kids get to live close to Grandparents that love them unflinchingly and have a special relationship with them. Hugging my wife and kids and meaning it with more than I can express with words. There are so many good times and victories in our home in my hometown, and the adopted hometown of my wife.
I've recounted the challenges that we've been through as a family. I thanked God aloud on numberous occassions that God has brought Chrissy, Caitlin and Connor through surgeries, a terrible car accident, and craziness. I thought about the opportunities, too many to count on all the fingers in the world, that I missed as a husband, father, son, and minister. I wished for all of them back, but they're gone. Now filled with an unknown number of tomorrows. Perhaps God was reminding me to stop wasting opportunities and chances.
Chances to be the husband that my wife deserves. Opportunities to be the Dad that I must be.
Times to be the son and grandson that I should strive for often. The time to be the minister to which I'm called. I felt a sense of loss that couldn't be taken away, what I like to call, "the paralyzing power of...if only."
A big part of the regret is that I didn't fully relish my time with family, church, and friends, until I watched, as another Lubbock boy said, "Lubbock in my rearview mirror."
Speaking of rearview mirrors. I walked out of the convenience store off the Interstate in Weatherford I hopped in the truck and remembered that the same teenaged beautiful Cinderella on stage hours ago was the same one I focused my rearview mirror on all the way to Lubbock in the middle of the night. I still remember somewhere around Abilene seeing my baby girl getting restless with an exhausted wife sleeping in the passenger seat. I reached back with my right hand, putting it on her brand new little leg and she sighed.
It may not be manly, but when I thought of all behind us as a family, I cried half-way to Fort Worth. The thing is I cried out of gratitude and love, not despair. I wouldn't trade those times nor loved ones for anything, even if things have to change. A broken heart means you love deeply enough to hurt, even in good ways.
Oh, what I'd give to hear that sigh again. But, as I've said before, driving while staring in the rearview mirror can be dangerous...unless you're staring at Caitlin or a Connor with Chrissy beside you.