Hearts and Flowers

While cleaning up the kitchen this evening I happened to be picking up grocery bags - you know, the standard, white, plastic flimsy things that tear over the slightest strain, but will resist 400 lbs of torque if you're trying to tear into them - anyway, I had made a trip to the store & was  just wrapping up the bags so they'd be ready for their next mission: lining my trash cans. As I swooped the last bag off the floor I noticed something red falling from it - about 20 little red construction paper hearts fell onto my kitchen linoleum. Lily had been cutting them out while we were outside this morning. I remember kneeling in the dirt, planting my strawberry starts, and every few minutes she would require my attention to show me some new configuration of cut-out hearts in a strip of red construction paper. At the time, I sort of brushed her aside, giving her latest wonder a brief glance and a cursory, "Yeah, that one's really neat!" before returning to my oh-so-important planting. As I looked at those dozens of little red hearts on the floor I caught myself wondering . . . how many more mornings will I have of red construction paper creations and carefully crafted heart patterns? How much longer will Lily be so excited to show me every new creation she makes?

I couldn't help but wonder at the speed and splendor of childhood. I, like most parents, have had many friends with children grown offer sage advice to cherish these years because they go so quickly. I don't know if it's because of the challenges we faced in starting a family, or because of the experiences I've had in my own life, or perhaps just a wonderful blessing from Heavenly Father, but the fleeting time of infancy, toddlerhood and now childhood has continued to strike me as an almost painful pleasure. I vividly remember lying with Lily on the couch in our apartment when she couldn't have been more than 2 weeks old and crying because I felt the time was already going too quickly. How is it that the days and weeks seem to fly by no matter how desperately we try to hold on to them, while a single night with a sick child can last for an eternity?

Why do the precious moments go so quickly? Could it be that the experiences we are granted in this life are but a small sampling of what is offered in the eternities? If so, then perhaps Heaven will be sharing an eternity of my baby's laughter and smiles with Tim. I cannot imagine anything that would bring me greater joy. What a particular treasure it is for me to have the opportunity to be home where I can at least have the option to appreciate every red construction paper heart, every "potty time" excitement, and every one of Baby Meg's smiles. Truly, Home is My Heaven on Earth.