I lined up my homeschoolers yesterday for our annual Back to School pics. It hit me, as I was arranging kids in their usual location, that this is the last year I will take that extra step back to make sure both my 6’5” son and my 48” son fit in the frame. Next August, Jack will move from the “homeschooler shot” to the “college kid shot.” Everyone will– finally– fit neatly in a tight little knot of stairsteps.
At the same time, Jude will slide from the preschool column to the elementary column. Which means that this year? It’s his last as a preschooler.
This is the year of lasts. Not only with Jack and Jude, but with John Mark, too. Next year, he’ll make the hop from elementary to middle school.
All of this hit me in the way that only another mother will fully appreciate, and by the time we gathered to being our Morning Basket, I was feeling a bit fragile. My emotions are pretty close to the surface these days. Hard evidence of the fact that my children are growing up is enough to unleash a tsunami, even though I’m in what feels like a very peaceful place when it comes to the transitions in my family.
I never expected to say, “this is one the last,” with any contentment, but here I am. I didn’t think I’d embrace young adults being absent from my daily life, either… but that, too, has felt right.
But I still get a little weepy as I consider the end to this beautiful season of growth. For years and years, we watched our family blossom as we welcomed new little people through both birth and adoption. Now begins the quiet time when the tall plants that sprang from the soil of that time gather their strength, send out shoots, and put down roots. Now, too, begins a different kind of growth. I haven’t quite gotten used to saying, “my son-in-law” yet, but I will. I hope to have quite an army of sons- and daughters-in-law, so I’m liking the way the words feel on my tongue.
Life has so many firsts coming my way. I’m overjoyed as I think on what the next decade will bring.
I’m looking forward to drinking in this year of lasts. I’m trying to stay focused on the here and now, and not wonder what the next phase will hold. So often, contentment is leeched away by the leaning forward, or backward, and not feeling the sun on your face right where you stand. No doubt I’ll tear up from time to time, especially since Jack’s senior year will likely be– out of necessity– full of military medical clearances and aptitude tests and whatever else Uncle Sam demands. And, too, Jude is less the blissfully relaxed preschooler and more the “teach me my letters” sort. There will be hints and shadows of tomorrow in many days, but I’m determined not to let them rob me of my todays.
For right now, I have five official students here at Great Commission Academy. I’m teaching grades 12, 5, 4, 1, and what we affectionately call “Grade Phin.” I have a tagalong preschooler. And life is beautiful, even though it doesn’t fit neatly into a single photo.