Maybe you have one, and maybe you don't, but we all know what a marking wall is. A marking wall is a place in some houses where, once a year on their child's birthday, they line them up and "mark" how tall they are at that age. My wife and I were talking about how fast our girls seem to be growing up when my youngest walked into the room. "Her back and her legs just seem to be getting longer all of a sudden," my wife said. So, we took our 5 year old who is about half-way to 6, lined her up on the marking wall, and saw that she had literally grown almost as tall as her older sister at 6 years old. At this rate, she'll actually be taller than her older sister was by the time her 6th birthday rolls around.
None of this seems possible. "She has always been so little," I think to myself. Compared to her older sister, she is still little, but according to the marking wall, she is growing . . . and fast. The marking wall greets me as soon as I walk in from work. I actually look for it. There, over the past four years since we've moved in, is a record of how much our children have grown, and a somewhat painful reminder of how small they once were. It reminds me to enjoy them right now, because right now is not going to last very long.
Sometimes, just being kids, they can get on your nerves. It's a part of life. You get in a routine, you're trying to get things done, you're working on a project or an email or some other important piece of progress that is going nowhere, and then they jump into the middle of it all. I've gotten frustrated at them, and so has my wife at times. Our youngest loves to come where you are, if you're sitting, climb up behind you if you're in a chair, climb up on your back and look over your shoulder and then after watching for about 2 seconds say, "What are you doing?" She does this constantly, and one time I remember getting frustrated as I tried to type an email and my swivel chair kept rocking and moving as my daughter tried to find footing to pull herself up.
In the moment of greatest frustration, I suddenly remembered the marking wall. It hit me like a lightning bolt, "The day is coming all too soon when she won't be little enough to climb up the chair." My oldest is already there. At 9 years old, my oldest is half-way out of the house, and will soon be seeking a life outside of this place she has called home. Where did the last 9 years go? So, I look over at my youngest who has her tongue sticking out as she tries to pull her weight up, and I reach out to grab her, and pull her up behind me so she can watch. She quickly climbs up my back to where she can see what I'm doing, and like clockwork, 2 seconds later she says, "What are you doing, Papa?"
I hope I am doing right by them. I hope I am keeping a promise I made to God when they were born. I would hope that I would be known as Abraham was known by God, Genesis 18:19 "For I know him, that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the LORD, . . ."