Franklin Park Zoo

I was watching Baby A get passed around at Church the other day and thinking about how large her village has become. 

We have been blessed by the people in former seasons of our lives who have chosen to continue on with us into subsequent ones. Rita and Steve whom I met during graduate school, are two of these people.

Foster family day at the Franklin Park Zoo was an opportunity to spend time together and to introduce them to Baby A.

They fully embrace their roles as Aunt and Uncle, spending as much (if not more) time talking to our kids as they do with us.

They expand our children's experience that love also comes from those to whom you are not related.

The rare circumstance of adults outnumbering children allowed us to  be fully present and enjoy individual moments with each child:

Sophia and Jason got an additional thrill, when the coin operated rides they usually have to just pretend are moving were activated by the quarters and kindness of a stranger.

I am thankful for these moments when my children learn that friends can be family and generosity can be given to strangers.

It is a gift to be reminded of it myself.

Carrying

My Dad said that one of the reasons he wanted to become a father was to enjoy childhood again.

Sometimes parents raise children with a desire for them to live out dreams they never saw fulfilled in their own lives. For my Dad, it was the opportunity to experience some of the good stuff all over again. 

Growing up in a New York City apartment building, I doubt he ever picked his own pumpkin, but I can't recall an October where my brother and I didn't have one adorning either side of our front door.

This was the first year our five year old decided that she needed to carve one and my Dad would have loved the simple childhood ritual that it entailed. 

Trudging out to the muddy field with wagons and "shopping" until she found the perfect one- the size that she could still lift- but just barely.

October is the month that my father died, and sometimes the falling leaves and cooling temperature bring a flood of sadness of what that season held.

This first pumpkin picking of his Grandchildren's generation redeemed it somewhat. As I thought about the carrying of the childhood legacy our parents gave us, and how much he would have loved it.

And how much he would love the way the men of his generation have carried on traditions for him.