Yesterday at church one of the boys we taught in Cub Scouts was a greeter at the door. I said hello and shook his hand–and suddenly realized I was talking to his chest. He has grown more than just a little bit since Cub Scouts. When did that happen?
I later looked at my oldest son performing his church duties. Tall and lean and comfortable in his body. He can mountain bike 30 miles in a three-hour practice ride. His is a quiet, sensitive soul with an interest in all things mechanical. He loves playing in band and follows Formula 1 closely.
My oldest child, my daughter, has been putting in 40 – 72 hour weeks for the past several months to earn money for her move to Canada next month to start a program in concept art that will be the catalyst to her dream career. The restaurant where she works right now relies on her to a troubling degree. They’re still trying to talk her into working a few more shifts after she’s already told them she’ll be done.
My youngest son starts high school today. He’s nearly my height already, reads faster than the library can get in new books, and is a straight-A student. There are few sports he doesn’t have a natural ability in. He has three Major League Baseball teams he follows constantly, and single-handedly turned our family into Cubs and Astros fans.
The first child is about to leave the nest, perhaps for good. The other two may be gone themselves within four years. What’s going on? Where did the years go? No, it doesn’t feel like just yesterday I was holding them in my arms as infants. It’s taken nearly twenty years to get to this point, and I feel every year of it. It…just never seemed like this would happen. That was always sometime in the future. This was beyond my ability to picture.
I never could have imagined they’d turn out so amazing and so worrisome at the same time. They’ve picked up too many of my flaws, and yet they’re distinctly unique in surprising in wonderful ways. They’re becoming…people. People who decreasingly need me. That’s the most agonizingly fantastic realization of all. As parents we certainly hope for the day, but can’t really imagine what it will look like.
I no longer need to imagine. It’s happening before my eyes.
Parenting. The toughest job you’ll ever love.