I sit back, watching my kindergarten students interact in the dramatic play center, mixing up imaginary food and having fun with the farm set and dinosaur bin. Watch them role-playing. Make-believing. Pretending. Watch them piece together chain links with number pendants to make dog leashes for the play puppies and create Lego masterpieces in the math and science centre. I observe their little hands fashioning airplanes and hearts and all manner of interesting creations from our well-used set of classroom Wiki-Stix. Watch them as they chatter and converse over lunch. Listen to their banter.
This thought does not escape me: how quickly these tender years fly by.
Just yesterday you too were an innocent five-year-old boy. Tractors and Gators and trucks and cars your preferred toy. Lego came next, followed by bikes with training wheels and soccer balls. Anything John Deere for quite some time. And oh the books. Loads and loads of books. Dog-eared copies of a few.
Where did the time fly off to?
Blink my eyes, and you are five years old. Blink again and now you're a fine young man waiting to start the final chapter of your last three years at home.
Do you know how proud we are of who you are? Proud of who you have been and proud of who you are becoming?
Right now, you are exactly who you were meant to be, and we couldn't love you anymore today than we already do.
The older I get, the more I am appreciating the little moments I am given. Tonight, I borrowed your coat that I had given you for Christmas, wearing it for my walk. It still strikes me strange that you are now taller than I. I pray that I will never lose the picture in my mind of you -- that tiny baby boy I held in my arms nearly fifteen years ago. I remember clutching you fiercely to my chest, wanting to shelter and protect you. A mother's shielding embrace. And now your strong arms wrap around my shoulders when I lean in for a hug. I cannot quickly adjust to this change in roles; I am now the one who looks up to you.
As you and your classmates move into this next phase of your youth, remember who you are. You all belong to someone. And you, Son, are ours: a boy born to two parents who have loved you even before you were born. When someone is loved, as are you, that someone might not realize what this privilege entails. Our love for you encompasses so much:
For it promises to always provide as we are able. Covenants to continually be involved, available and present. Commits to see you through the tough times as well as the best. Gives its word that it will stand by you, whatever it takes.
Just yesterday, it seems, I was a young mama waiting by the gate for a little boy to come bounding up the walkway from his first day of school. Wanting to hear the details. Hoping for the best. Those tender years have come and gone.
Blink and there you were.
Blink again and here we are today.
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