you've come a long way, babies

you’ve come a long way, babies

T

here are 97 days between Memorial Day and Labor Day. I know because I counted.

School may be back in session, the heat already starting to break, but this weekend really is summer’s other bookend. All of our longest and brightest days seem caught up neatly between Memorial Day and Labor Day, bracketed by barbecues and those extra days off at the start and finish.

Sometimes it feels like nothing has changed, even over the course of an entire season. I remember a sermon once in which the priest talked about the ‘dog days,’ time in which we move through our responsibilities—during summer or not—with no appreciable sense of change or progress.

We all experience periods that fit that description. But sometimes growth can be hard to measure. From the outside things may look the same—heck, might feel the same on the inside, too—but let me tell you from personal experience that neither appearances nor your own subjective sense of where things are going (read: nowhere) can be relied upon to quanitfy you how far you’ve come.

This is may be why I love to watch Scott’s morning glories grow every year. In just a few short months, these little green next-to-nothings become a mass of vines flowering in blue, pink and white against the house. There are so few things whose forward progress can be seen so clearly and so it is satisfying to watch their ascent up the lines Scott has established for them—and it always makes me feel hopeful for the growth of all the other things I can’t see.