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Sunrise, Sunset. Swiftly Fly the Years

Yesterday was our youngest son’s 26th birthday. Our oldest son is 36, and there are two more sons in between.

The minute I read the word “sunrise”, chosen as today’s Five Minute Friday writing prompt, I thought of the beautiful song from Fiddler on the Roof, “Sunrise, Sunset”. As I played the original soundtrack from the movie, tears welled up in my eyes.

Is this the little girl I carried

Is this the little boy at play

I don’t remember growing older

When did they

In the weeks before my son’s birthday, I rummaged through two boxes of photos that hadn’t been pasted into albums. I selected the best ones from his baby and little boy years, adding photos from the awkward times, from basketball, piano lessons, graduation and, most recently, with his significant other. I had decided to send him some memories as a gift for his birthday. As I scanned them to create the book through an online photo lab, I studied the photo of him holding his first and only nephew. I could visualize the years ahead — perhaps children, a likely move across the country, success in his budding career.

Sunrise, sunset. Yesterday he was a goofy little guy wandering the woods and fields on our farm with a video camera in hand. “Is this the little boy at play…” Suddenly, he’s a sought-after professional, entrusted with high-dollar equipment as he helps capture images in the film industry. “I don’t remember growing older…”

We can’t halt the passage of time. We wouldn’t want to. But a mother’s heart can’t help but wish to travel back in time, perhaps to live it all over again.

Travel with me?

The above reflection was written in five quick minutes (more or less) and linked at Five Minute Friday.

Selah…finding solace after the loss of a child

While writing about my own sons, I’m thinking of a dear friend who lost her eldest son over 20 years ago in a swimming accident. DeVonna R. Allison has shared her journey through grief in a beautiful little book that offers excerpts from her journal in the months following her son’s death. Her desire in creating the book is this:

“I want parents to know that other parents and families have suffered the loss of a child and survived. I also want parents to be reminded God is with them in their trial. Faith is not the absence of doubts; faith is choosing to believe in God’s love and goodness despite our doubts, fears and sorrows.”

Author DeVonna R. Allison

DeVonna is a wise and generous woman. To bare her soul and share her words is a brave act. I have not lost a child, but the deep well of faith DeVonna reached into while on her healing journey is one I’ve dipped into as I lost both my parents and cared for a son who was gravely ill. From her journal entry dated February 7, 2000:

“In my devotions today I read that the author called suffering a great honor, a sharing of Christ’s struggles in Gethsemane. It is a struggle to surrender a very natural desire and to receive peacefully the will of the Father instead. I am so glad this author and the Lord Jesus understand. The Lord suffered so that I could look and see and know that He understands giving up something cherished for something very hard. In spite of the agonies, I have and do willingly give Wesley to the Lord’s keeping, care and will. My Lord knows my sighs are not rebellion. He understands my grief perfectly and doesn’t condemn me for it. That is very precious comfort to me.”

I have two copies of DeVonna’s book to share with two readers who leave comments here.





  1. Amie

    Agreed! It’s unbelievable how quickly it goes by. My oldest son is only eighteen, but I still remember those days when he was my only child. We’d climb into a comfy chair together and “watch” TV (ok, I’d watch and he’d cuddle) while my husband worked nights. It was forever ago, but I can still almost feel him in my arms. Lovely post.

    Amie, FMF #23

    • Ingrid Lochamire

      Such a sweet memory! I’ve thought that I wish I’d been aware of the last time my youngest asked to snuggle in our bed.

  2. Annette

    oh, I so echo to that desire to go back to when my lad was little. In the throes of teenage angst. sometimes those younger days beckon. visiting from FMF37

    • Ingrid Lochamire

      They do, Annette. Thanks for stopping by!

  3. Kym

    My sons are 28, 26, and 22, and my daughter is 19. My youngest son will be getting married in just a couple of months. How is this possible, I ask myself? Isn’t he still my baby boy? The years go much too quickly, in some ways. And I realize that’s why older women admonish new mothers to “treasure these days” when they are young. Loved your post!

    Visiting from FMF#40

    • Ingrid Lochamire

      Thanks, Kym. Yes, I tell young mothers all the time not to wish away the minutes. They’ll soon be memories.

  4. Wendy S Elzinga

    As a fellow mother of grown children, I can attest that the years fly by so swiftly. I have so enjoyed watching my children’s talents grow but I too miss their younger years and daily presence.

    • Ingrid Lochamire

      Don’t you sometimes wish for a parenthood “newsreel” of your child’s growing up? Sorting through all those old photos did that for me.

  5. Lisa @ The Plain-Spoken Pen

    My oldest is 18. It seems like just yesterday he was a baby, then a toddler, then starting kindergarten. I’ve heard it said that the days are long, but the years are short. Days when he was teething or not sleeping or sick, those felt like they would never end. But a blink of an eye later, and he’s on the verge of being grown and flown. So fast the time passed, even if it didn’t always seem like it in the thick of things.

“The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life.” ~ William Morris

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