Tag Archives: moms of graduating seniors

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A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance.  Ecclesiastes 3:4

 

I remember the first time you were whisked away from me.

You were approximately thirty minutes old; ten wrinkled, tiny toes and a head full of fine baby hair.

I'd got to hold you in my arms for a few minutes, but before I knew it, your dad had scooped you up and exited the room along with the nurses.

I knew where they'd taken you. A crowd of merrymakers were waiting in the hall to see you in all your newness.

Your debut consisted of an onslaught of aggressive camera flashes and fawning family members.

Your dad held you up like a young king who would someday rule the world. I can imagine it was something like Rafiki did when he presented Simba to the pride. I'm only guessing.

I wouldn't know.

You see, I was still stuck in the delivery room, by myself. After minutes that seemed like hours of being left alone; you taken from me, I had decided to join the party. But there was a problem.

I put my weight on my hands and scooted to the edge of the bed. Something didn't feel right. My legs weren't working. Still I tried until the nurses came in reminding me that I was immobile due to the epidural I had gotten to help me through the thirty-second hour of labor (had to throw that in).

I was the one who carried you for eight months and three weeks. I was the one who labored to get you here. And now it seemed I was the ONLY one who wasn't bursting with excitement in the hallway. 

For a moment I felt left behind and quite unable to position myself in that happy place with those people in the hall.

I had the same feeling rush over me earlier this week in the parking lot of Hobby Lobby. I'd just experienced an unsuccessful attempt at buying party supplies for your graduation party and decorations for your senior table. I sat in the car bummed at the lack of shopping bags and bummed still, that you're graduating in the first place.


I thought about who I could text:

1. that would be by their phone to provide instant comfort because they understand where I'm coming from

2. and that I haven't already exhausted with "I'm so sad he's graduating" texts.

It pretty much excluded everybody, because here's the thing-

Everybody else is already in the "celebration hall". You're there with them. You're all more than fine with this thing. Your dad is doing his "Rafiki bit" thinking about what bright things lie ahead and I'm still trying (unsuccessfully) to join in.

THAT'S the thought I had earlier this week, but...

I'm making a choice to work myself out of my grief-stricken immmobility, because under the layers of "the last this, the last that" and the slew of tear-inducing pictures of Hay Hay (as we used to call you)......I'm happy.

I'm happy that we made it through Algebra II and the parent portion of driver's ed. I'm proud that I see a guy who's developed a great work ethic and a bright outlook for his future. Standing before me is a boy who solemnly swore "that it would never be uncool to hug his mom". You've kept that promise.

I'm going to turn my sadness into gratitude and get happy with the rest of those who are excited at the new chapter ahead. I'm getting ready for the parties.

I'm choosing gratitude.........even though I've already made this decision about twenty times this year.

I'll choose gladness when I find a tear in my eye when I hear you playing "Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac, and when I think about the milk jug that will probably be lonely in our fridge next August without all its fellow milk jugs that are usually beside it to fill your insatiable thirst. I'll make my sentimentality a reminder to do so. Because this graduation thing is a good thing, even if it makes me sappy.

So congratulations! Let's do this thing.

I'll meet you in the hallway to celebrate. 



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One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, ‘Oh, why can’t you remain like this for ever!’ This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. — J.M. Barrie

Spring pictures must have arrived at pre-school this week because I've seen a host of pictures on Facebook while scrolling. In several of the pictures, some of your kids are sitting on a picture prop; one of those old yellow upright Igloo water coolers that I remember seeing on the sidelines of the football field back when.  A number 2 followed by a 0,1 and 5 is painted on corrugated tin making up part of the background. Your little ones are cute.  I see little boys in polos and khakis. In another picture, a girl with floral dress wears a matching yellow headband that frames a face, still with all the baby teeth.  And I read the posts that go alongside them. "My baby's growing up!" And "Slow down time!"  

I was you once. I had littles. And I fretted, thinking of how fast they were growing even though they were small. 

 

 It wasn't that long ago. It was hardly before yesterday. And I'm sure my mom would tell me that it was just the day before yesterday that she had me dressed up in light blue corduroy with pigtails in blue ribbons for my pictures. 

For others of you who have passed the stage of "littles", that was you once too, not so long ago.... wasn't it? 

Two nights ago I picked out pictures to go on Hayden's graduation announcements. I ruled out several pictures where stubble stuck out on his once smooth pudgy cheeks. I noticed how broad his jawline has gotten. Today I'm thinking about how I have few occasions left where I can boss him to do pictures where he smiles for me (and for all my friends on Facebook and abroad).
Waves of sadness have come over me in past months, but they roll back out almost just as quick. I started the boo-hoo baby stuff probably sometime close to when you started. Maybe the first time was the day he started of Kindergarten. I think I was sappy when he lost his first tooth; I know I was an emotional wreck the night of Kindergarten graduation when the speaker played

From the day we arrive on the planet
And blinking step into the sun....

Til we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the Circle
The Circle of Life

I can't clearly recall every time I've come undone with his or his sisters' growing but I've senselessly let thoughts of fleeting youth cloud too many of my days rather than cherishing the days we've been given.
A lot of soul searching has been happening these past few months. Last night I sat with a Christian speaker from Houston. Knowing I was a pastor's wife she asked me if it'd been hard moving every few years. I've been asked that question before.  I knew how to answer. I told her the same thing I told the friend who asked me if I was sad when we were preparing to move to Nederland. I said

God has been good everywhere we've been. 

I remember trusting when we moved in 2011 that God would be just as good in Nederland as He was in Trinity. He has been.
I have no doubt He'll be just as good in the places we're headed. 
 
God will be good in 33 days when I hug my six-foot something boy in his cap and gown. God will be good when we unpack Hayden's belongings in a dorm room that's way farther than a stone's throw from my room. He'll be good when I no longer have IPhone finder on my phone and can't track where Hayden is when he should have been home fifteen minutes ago.  God will still be good when the girls follow suit; when they drive for the first time or have their first date, and when they walk down the aisle. 
 
In our nature we often sorrow for what is left behind. We fear what lies ahead. But there's no place in space and time where God isn't good. 
 
I cry harder these days, but I laugh harder too. I listen to his stories more intently now knowing we're ending an important chapter. Not all the days have been sunny. We've walked through tough days and even seasons.  Those are the times that have led me to love deeper than I did when he was in diapers. I can see days in the near future where I call my kids my friends. Many are the good memories. Today is good, and good are the days that lie ahead.
 
Time does have a way of sneaking up on us. It's true. But time gives more than it steals.
And all of time is in His hands.