What's in a Name?

Ever since I discovered lilacs for the first time in Carolyn H's backyard, they have been my favorite flower. The fresh, pungent scent was intoxicating. That was in 1982, when we wandered the fields and foothills near our home all summer long. We'd just moved from California, where I'd never seen lilacs before. Back then all eleven of us kids were still living at home. Life was simple and carefree. I was eight, and never thought I'd grow up.

But as all of us thirty-somethings have discovered, childhood passes quickly. So does youth and young adulthood. I married my sweet husband Michael almost ten years ago. It's been a happy marriage, which brought us five beautiful children. I love them dearly. I have been guilty from time to time of wishing they'd "get past this stage or that stage," and "make my life easier."

Every time we've moved to a new house in Utah, I've planted lilac bushes. Unfortunately we haven't stayed in one place long enough to enjoy them for more than a couple of seasons. It occurs to me now that this serves as a useful metaphor. I don't want to look back regretfully on these years of my kids' childhood. If I don't stop now to enjoy the moments of joy, I will have nothing of comfort to recall when they are grown.

Hence the title "Our Lilac Tree". In my part of Utah, they bloom once a year for a very short time. Childhood is as a lilac bloom: beautiful, intoxicating, and fleeting.