Climbing Trees and Shivering Timbers

The other day, my 5-year-old daughter recited a poem for me that is simple, but clever:

Shiver me timbers,

Let the wind blow,

We'll know much more

After we grow.  

I remember a spring morning this past school year.  I had just dropped off my 7-year-old at her school, and my 5-year-old and I drove in silence.  Out of the blue (and with some anxiety), she said:  "Mom, I can't take care of you when you're old.  I don't even know how to drive or cook!"  I suppressed a laugh and told her not to worry.  "I hope you won't need to take care of me until many, many years from now.  And by then, you'll know how to do so much you'll amaze yourself!"    

Whenever I start thinking about everything I still don't know (or worse -- what I know but don't do as I should), I feel overwhelmed.  Shiver me timbers, indeed!*  But of course you can't know everything at once.  We learn in bits, adding each particle to the amalgamated whole.  Sometimes you just have to let the wind blow, and the seasons of life come and go.  

In truth, we are never really "grown" or "un-grown."  Instead, we are "growing."  In fact, the word "grow" comes from the Indo-European root *ghre, meaning "to become green."  

I remember a summer morning a year ago, sitting among the pine trees in Flagstaff with my then 6-year-old daughter.  So peaceful.  Perfect.  "What, do you think, is the difference between being a grown-up and being a child?"  She considered for about thirty seconds (an eternity for a child) and responded:  "A grown-up can climb taller trees."  She was not speaking in metaphor, but her answer left me pondering for days.  Of course, she is right.  The growing in each of us (if it is to remain green) stretches ever higher, but never stops.  

*The phrase "shiver me timbers" is based on nautical slang and is a reference to the timbers (wooden support frames) of a sailing ship.  In heavy seas, ships would be lifted up and pounded down so hard as to "shiver" the timbers, startling the sailors.  Such an exclamation was meant to convey a feeling of fear and awe.