A Mother's Musing: The Massive Seasonal Clothes Switching Scheme

Many moons ago, I was traveling in Great Britain with my mother when at the end of a long day of touring we entered the city of Manchester.  Second only to London, it was by far the biggest city on our route.  And while having successfully maneuvered the left-side driving, tiny roads, and round-abouts of country touring, we were less prepared for the perilous nature of the big city motorway.  To top it off, our B&B was on the opposite side of the city from the antique shopping we had been pursuing, so we had a ways to go.  Finally, as we ended the motorway, we saw one big sign "Manchester Massive Motorway Name Changing Scheme"   followed by a complex diagram of how every road in our now defunct A to Z Atlas was now different.  Needless to say, it was a bit of a harrying experience, which scared me for life, and is now the name sake of "The Massive Seasonal Clothes Switching Scheme."

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As a three-girl mom, I find myself overcome with a roller-coaster of emotions each spring and fall when it is time for the "Massive Seasonal Clothes Switching Scheme."  Filled with dread at facing the imminent disaster that lies ahead, but faced with the warming weather of three weeks post-Easter and the lack of suitable clothing for my children, I put on my big girl panties and attempt to tackle the task.

Curious K is the easy one.  I almost always do her clothes first.  Get the bins of sister's hand-me-downs from the big closet.  Set out the clothes.  Help her pick what she likes best, making sure that my favorites make the cut.  Being sure to include sets and things she can "match" when she wants to pick out clothes for herself.  We are careful not to over stuff the drawers and balance nice clothes with play clothes, but we are always heavy on the church dresses.  ;^)  We set aside clothes that are too worn to pass down, and create an "emergency" box of the leftovers, just in case we find ourselves short at some busy point when the laundry is three weeks backed up.  I carefully sort the out-of-season clothes into "maybe it will fit next year" or "time to pass down," and we wrap it up with a clean room and the proud feeling of success at accomplishing "something."

It only gets harder from here... Next comes, Reader R.  Her clothes situation gets more complicated each year as my "sporty" sweetie wants to wear nothing but sweatpants and old t-shirts, just as her classmates blossom into fashion conscious style wardens.  The discovery of a sports bra in the collection of cotton blessings that I have been hoarding for several seasons leads to a discussion of growing and modesty that Mom isn't really ready to tackle.  We weed out several things that "aren't our style" because they just make my baby look way too grown up, and rejoice at the prairie-style nightgown that we now a dear friend lovingly put in our bag just for her.  I am filled to the top with thankfulness for the cast off blessings of friends from 4 different families that have supplied her entire wardrobe for the next season... so that all I need to do is use a gift card to buy a swimsuit and some white church shoes in the next bigger size.   At the same time, I am nearly sick by the winter clothes we put away that were hardly ever worn, and feel thankful that we have two younger girls that will be blessed by them someday.

Then, procrastinating a day or two, I reluctantly move on to the most difficult task... Lil' L.'s clothes.  Maybe next year, I'll try doing hers first.  I prep myself by e-mailing ahead to a friend with a beautiful little girl of her own and make sure she is up for taking our hand-me-downs.  With joy and sadness, I lovingly take down each outfit and remember where it came from, the beautiful memories of each of my girls wearing it and box it up, ready, but not quite, to pass it on.   My heart aches that my "Big Girl" is growing up so quickly...  I hang on to too many things with the hopes that they will still fit next fall, knowing full well that they probably won't.  I cry silent tears for opportunities missed, for milestones passed, for grand-babies too far away to appreciate the out-of-fashion, faded old dresses that I have saved for five-decades with the hopes of seeing someone wear again.  I refold the baby blankets and put one more in the giveaway bag... and save the rest for "one more year."  

So three days later... there are still bins and boxes scattered through the upstairs, waiting for the straggling, winter-wear to be washed and find it's way into the right home.  And I sit, pouring my heart out through my fingertips into this funny journal for anyone and no one in particular to read, stuffing my feelings and my mouth with a chocolate covered protein bar, trying to muster a laugh at tomorrow's forecast... for SNOW!

"Jump!"

"JUMP!!"  I yell at her tying to encourage her to take that big step.

Her hesitation is obvious as she stands in her hot pink ballerina swimsuit on the side of the pool.  The sun beats down on us, and she just stands arms outstretched.

"Jump!" She wiggles and squirms, arms outstretched   She wants so badly to jump in, but she wants my hands.  You can tell she doesn't want to try it alone.  She is nervous.  She isn't sure if I will really be there.  

She doesn't really understand the potential dangers of the water.  She doesn't really know how deep, or really very shallow, it is.  She doesn't know the inherent safety of the ever-present lifeguard or the ocean-safe life vest I make her wear every time she is within a 1/4 mile of a pool.

All she knows is that she doesn't want to jump without Momma's hands.

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I think about how many times in my life I have jumped willy-nilly into the waters, not really knowing what lay ahead.

Not a risk-taker by nature, the big dives seem few and far between, but on closer introspection, I see little daily dives that intrigue me.  And yet... I have the comfort of the everlasting arms of the Lord.  I know they are there... standing with me in the shallow water, watching me from the lifeguard stand, holding onto the grab loop of my life vest without me even knowing.

Lord, help me to "Jump" into the tasks I have before me today... secure in your always and forever, never-ending, never-giving up love.

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NOTE:  I recently came across Lisa-Jo Baker's blog that encourages "Five Minute Friday."  She tosses out a word and bloggers all over the map sit at their computers and write for five minutes on that word. (This week's word was "Jump!") It captured my attention and challenged me.  This is the first time I have tried it.  I am hoping it will help me to be more consistent about capturing thoughts and expressing them in writing.  Yes, I know it is Monday.  Yes, it took me closer to 15 minutes to write this and another five by the time I post it... but I think that I am worth it.  And deep in my heart, I hear my Father calling "Jump! Jump!! JUMP!!!"