Tim Wildmon
AFA president
May 1994 – “All my possessions for a moment of time.”
Queen Elizabeth I,
with her dying breath, 1603
They say time flies when you’re having fun. I’ve never been able to figure out who “they” are but I found the saying to be true. In fact, time seems to get away even when you’re not having fun. At least that’s been my experience.
Springtime in Mississippi generally arrives sometime in mid-March, and this year my wife Alison and I were particularly glad to see its arrival. Cabin fever has a strange and sometimes ugly effect on six-year-old girls and four-year-old boys like our two. A few days, much less a couple of months, cooped up inside with two normally (sometimes abnormally) active children and a baby can – well, let’s be honest here – it can drive an otherwise sane individual crazy. Nutso. It’ll make parents say things like, “If I hear another whine out of you I’m going to string you up on that ceiling fan and turn it on full blast and ’round and ’round you’ll go, buddy!”
There are only so many things you can build with Legos, and Flipper and Lassie only last 30 minutes each. (Yes, call me a hypocrite but we do use television an hour a day for babysitting purposes.) I know, I know, this is time that could be spent reading to the children, baking cookies, memorizing Bible verses or teaching them algebra – and I’ve mentioned all those ideas to Alison on how I would handle it if I were at home during the day. Her response is to tell me what I can do with my ideas, and my response, of course, is to keep other ideas to myself. Have you been there, men? Let me see a show of hands and can you say “Amen!”
Anyway, a few weeks back it was a beautiful March day and I took the kids out in the back yard to play. They both wanted to play on their swingset so they each sat down and tried to begin swinging. The only problem was that their little bodies had lengthened since last they used the set and now legs were too long for the seats. Being the observant dad that I am, I went over and raised the seats three notches. Now, this may sound corny to some and ironic to others, but raising Wriley and Wesley’s swings was a simple, yet painful task.
While changing the notches it hit me that my two oldest are growing up. One year closer to adulthood. One year less they will be under my direct care and attention. One year less I will be able to tuck them in at night, talk about the day, say our prayers together and kiss them good night. For a few short moments dad had a lump in his throat. Man, how time flies, I thought.
I remember where I was when Alison told me she was pregnant with each child. I remember the words of the pastor as we dedicated each to the Lord. And now our two oldest are starting school and needing the swing raised three notches. It won’t be long until the swingset won’t be fun any more. Can we freeze frame here?
Well, that gorgeous March afternoon served as a reminder that I have only a few short years left to shape and mold my children into what God intends them to be and to create fond memories for them of their early years at home.
My, how time flies. 
