Long days and short years
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Some six years ago, I wrote a quick post about how I wished my kids would stop growing up so fast. After posting it, I had some second thoughts. I mean, part of my role as a Dad is to help my kids navigate this thing called life and to (hopefully) serve as a guide throughout the process. If I’m supposed to help them grow and mature and become strong, compassionate, confident, and passionate young men and women, then I should celebrate the fact that they’re doing just that. Right? I can’t really complain when they start showing that they’re maturing into the very people I hope and pray that they become.
So it seemed like it would be a little intellectually dishonest to pine for the days when my kids were younger while simultaneously encouraging them to keep growing. But here I am. And here you are. So here we are. We’re all in this awkward space. Together. Lucky us.
Here’s how we got here:
It really began a few weeks ago when old high school and college friends of mine started posting pictures. “Oh,” I thought to myself, “Everyone’s celebrating their younger siblings’ proms. How sweet.” Of course, it wasn’t their younger siblings’ proms they were photographing. It wasn’t nieces or nephews. And it wasn’t their distant cousins.
It was their own kids.
As I saw this countless stream of young adults dressed to the nines in anticipation of one of the highlights of their high school careers, I found myself asking one basic question:
When did this happen?
It was an honest question. Because whoever said that the days are long and the years are short really knew what he or she was talking about. I remember the long days after the sleepless nights. Some of those days, especially during seminary, were pretty tough. They certainly felt like they’d never end.
But they did.
Because shortly after my friends were posting pictures of their kids getting ready for prom, Christy and I found ourselves standing in a nearby city park, taking pictures of Aiden and his date.*
As I stood there watching him joke around with a great group of friends, I started to think about the night before Aiden’s first day of Kindergarten. I remember sitting by his bed in awe at how much he had grown.
I couldn’t find a First Day of Kindergarten pic. But I did find this from his Kindergarten graduation. And you get the idea. While I never got teary-eyed about how big my oldest had become during his Kindergarten adventure, I know it’s not unusual. Especially on that first day of Kindergarten. I’ve been there. I get it. I won’t judge anyone for realizing how much their children have grown and shedding a tear or two about that. Just so long as we all acknowledge that we can’t stop time from marching on and we cannot keep our little ones from growing up. It’s just not possible. And that’s not our mission, anyway.
Ahem…
Unless your oldest just went to his Junior prom and you’ve come to realize that you’re well into the Back Nine of his high school career. We’re almost past all of the “firsts” – first job, first college visit, first dance, first girlfriend, first car, etc. And now we’re barreling towards the first of the “lasts” – last Summer Break of high school. Last birthday at home. Last homecoming. And, of course, the Last First Day of high school.
Oh holy cow. Did someone start cutting onions around here? Who’s cutting onions? You’re going to have to give me a moment…
Anyway.
Where was I?
Oh yeah. I swore I wouldn’t get to this parenting stage and wish that my kids would stop growing. And I’m not. I’m looking back. I’m celebrating. And maybe I’m feeling a little nostalgic. That’s OK. Because the past has some amazing stories to tell. But this kid’s story has just begun.
Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to go hide my face because the Hannah Montana series finale just brought me to tears. I mean, doesn’t the whole “I’m going away to college” thing make every parent weep?**
I think we’re going to have to ban all series finales for at least another two years. This old dad might not survive.
But in the meantime, I’ll keep praying that this song makes itself known in my son’s life. And in his siblings’ lives.
This has been our prayer, our purpose, our desire, since before Aiden was born. We want all of our children to live lives led by mercy and grace. I believe it’s a central tenant to living a full life. And, after all, it behooves us to live.
We are Todds, after all.
*She’s just a friend. I promise.
**Tangent: The night my parents dropped me off at Milligan College, my roommate and I watched Father of the Bride. Don’t ask why. But I don’t think I’ve watched it since then. And I don’t plan on watching it any time in the near future. It’s definitely going on my “movies not to watch over the next two and a half years” list.
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