I find myself with some time on my hands - unexpectantly. My days are generally filled with activities I enjoy doing now that I am in the “older” years. An ordinary cold and cough decided to move south into my lungs and after a visit to the doctor, he diagnosed me with pneumonia. No wonder I felt like a truck was sitting on my chest for the past few days. No wonder I can hardly walk upstairs without gasping for air. He said - “take the antibiotics and rest!” Taking the antibiotics is not a problem for me - resting doesn’t come as easily. But I have put everything on hold to do just that. Rest and let the antibiotics rid my lungs of the nasties that have taken residence there in the past few days.

During this imposed rest period I decided to watch one of my favourite tv families (from the last few years) - the Pearsons - from This Is Us - Jack and Rebecca are the parents - Kevin, Kate and Randall - are the kids - triplets.

Season 1. Episode 1. I started right at the beginning.

Jack and Rebecca had their kids just about the same time we did. Early 80’s. I relate to this family, and although, I didn’t have triplets, I had my boys in very close succession. It felt like triplets. (I digress.) Rebecca was expecting triplets - Kevin was born first and then Kate. Sadly their 3rd little guy (Kyle) died during the birth. I wept along with Rebecca when Jack told her one of their babies had died. But, only in Hollywood - on the same day that the triplets were born - does a father drop off his child at a fire station because he can’t care for his newborn son and the fire station captain then drops that baby off at the same hospital where Rebecca has just given birth and that little baby becomes their son. (Did you catch all that!)

So I’m binging on this series while I rest. During one of the episodes - while watching - it came to me once again - how parents no matter their age - carry the joys and griefs of their kids on their backs. It happened this way!

Randall is the adopted son and he is black. Around the age of 9 he asks Jack and Rebecca about his birth parents. He is desperate to identify with someone who looks like him. Jack signs Randall up for a Judo class where the instructor and all the kids are black. Many of the other children’s fathers are at the class. Because it is Randall’s first class the instructor asks Jack to lie on the floor in a push up position. He asks Randall to climb on his dad’s back and for Jack to begin doing push ups. The instructor asks Jack as he pushes up and down, with sweat dripping off his forehead, with Randall on his back, if he is prepared to carry the burdens and joys, the heartbreaks and heartaches, the blessings and successes - of his son throughout his life? Is Jack’s back strong enough to do this - he asks again? “YES - SAYS JACK. YES - I WILL.” At that point, the instructor says to Jack that he can stop. Jack says ‘I WON’T EVER STOP!”

Okay - you know at this point, I’m crying my eyes out. Because it’s true. From the moment, the doctor places our sweet babies in our arms, we consciously or unconsciously decide that we will carry our kids - take a bullet for them, no matter what. Sometimes our backs carry tremendous sadness and we are hunched over in incredible pain for them and with them - and at other times, our backs stand straight and tall - our shoulders are squared with tremendous joy with the accomplishments achieved by our kids.

When our boys were little, we lived about a 5 hour drive away from my parent’s house. We often left after supper/work and arrived late - long after the boys had fallen asleep in the car. When we arrived - no matter the season of the year - Randy would carry the boys - one by one - into Mom and Dad’s - into their warm beds at the Lake - most times - they didn’t even stir. They knew they were in the strong arms of their dad. They felt safe, loved and cared for.

There was a time when one of our sons developed severe asthma. He was so little and when the grip of that horrible condition grabbed hold of him, it was heartbreaking. He spent many days in the hospital and never complained. He learned to live with his lungs compromised. I remember one particular winter day (before we were given the name of a wonderful specialist who helped us to better care for our son) when the school bus arrived to drop the boys off after their day at school. I could tell that our son was struggling with his breathing. His lips were tinged with blue. His breathing was rapid and ragged. My heart was broken for him. There was no way that he could trudge through the snow to walk the three or four blocks home. I pulled him on my back and carried him home. Yes, it was difficult. Yes, it was even painful. But it’s what we do. We carry our kids - sometimes literally on our backs.

When our boys had the odd bout of bronchitis or croup - a tradition began. In the old days when your kids had one of these things - you ran the shower hot - shut the bathroom door and let the steam work its way into their lungs. Then you bundled them up and took them outside into the chill, cold air where once again you prayed their air waves would open up and they could breathe properly. Many times Randy carried our boys or pulled them in a toboggan around the block on a cold, January night. Thus, the tradition of “hunting for the snow leopard” began. Randy would tell them the story of the snow leopard and it would take their mind off their coughing. To this day, the legend of the snow leopard lives on in our family.

As the teen years rolled around into early adulthood - we carried our boys in different ways - bearing their burdens - of a relationship that had ended - of waiting to hear news of acceptances into university and the disappointments that came with a small, white envelope instead of the big, brown package - of sports teams that lost championships - of grandparents dying of cancer and heart disease and one grandparent getting dementia and forgetting who their family are.

But also - carrying their joys and accomplishments - of them meeting their future life partners - of their choice of jobs - of their wedding days - of the births of their children. We shared these great accomplishments with them.

It seemed easier back then to carry the kids.

OR MAYBE, NOW IT’S NOT HARDER, JUST DIFFERENT.

THIS IS HOW I SEE THINGS NOW………….

It’s being available to be their loudest cheerleader.

It’s having the grandkids over for a night or two to give the parents time to regroup.

It’s sending a care package in the mail.

It’s driving 14 hours to run an 11 minute - 2 km race with the grandchildren.

It’s popping a card in the mail.

It’s crying when disappointment comes.

It’s taking their burdens and heartaches to the Lord on their behalf.

It’s cooking and baking and having everyone’s favourite food available.

It’s dropping a gift in their bank account for a date night.

It’s listening.

It’s hugging and not being the first one to let go.

It’s being available to drop and go!

It’s those things and a whole lot more. But for now - that’s how I see it.

Maybe - just maybe - that’s how we can continue to use our strong backs to bless our families and love on them.

AND JACK - I loved your pushups with Randall on your back.