Warning: This Blog post is very fresh and might be especially emotional!
I sit here, in my office, prepping for the first meeting of the day as I write this. On my way into work this morning, a song came on Spotify that I’d not heard before. As I listened to it, I began to think of my children. I thought about the way they were when they were little. I thought about how amazing it has been to see them grow up. I then thought about the soon-coming time they will be out of my house, living their own lives with children of their own. My two younger children, I admit, are still quite a ways away from this reality. I chuckle inside myself when I try to imagine Garrett as a fully-grown man - it seems like a destination so far away. However, my two eldest are much closer to that reality. My eldest is careening toward life at full speed with no intention of slowing down.
I would never trade where my children are at, right now. Nor would I ever dream of robbing them the experience of growing up and walking in the call that God has on their life. I wouldn’t want to go back to the past to “redo” everything. I found myself listening to that song, desperately wanting to take a “time out” in the past. Is there a way I could take a 15 minutes or any amount of time so I can hold my two eldest a little longer? Can I kiss the tops of their bald little heads one more time? Can I breath deep, and smell their little baby smell - just one more time? Can I look down on them while they reach up for me and say “up!” - begging me to hold them. Can I take a timeout there? Can I take a coffee break back in 2010?
As I am commiserating the growth of my children, I had this crystallizing thought. Watching my children grow is just like experiencing a perpetual Christmas morning. Follow me on this one:
Growing up, there was no day of the year that carried with it more excitement and anticipation than Christmas morning. Each day in December was like agony as I painfully awaited December 25th. Everyday I was a ball of nervous energy. I couldn’t wait to experience the wonders of Christmas Day. As I grew older, a sense of dread crept in to the excitement of the season. I began to realize that as soon as Christmas Day would arrive, it would end. Every step that brought me closer to the joys of the day, would also bring me one step closer to its ending. Even today, with every box of decorations I bring down from the attic is a box I have to pack away again. Every experience that brings joy, brings with it a sense of sadness at its eventual conclusion. The closer Christmas got, the more excitement was built, the higher the stakes got. But it would all come crashing down. All good things, as they say, come to an end.
With my eldest children rushing toward adulthood, I can’t help but draw the comparison from Christmas to watching them grow up. Every year brings new milestones and new accomplishments. Every achievement brings a sense of pride and joy and watching the amazing people God is developing them into. However, with each moment of happiness and wonder, a growing sense of dread fills me; that is good thing, like all others, will soon come to an end. The sadness doesn’t come from a sense of regret that I missed opportunities, neglected the small moments, or refused to be present as a father. Quite the opposite. I heeded the advice of parents who are further along their journey and cherished every moment. I took time to stop and create a memory. I paused to reflect on the joys of holding my children, teaching them, praying for them, and experiencing childhood with them. But it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. Time moves too fast, moments fly by the window too quickly. You can try to grab as many as you can, but there are too many to hold onto. It’s like I’m stuck in a ticket booth at Chuck E. Cheese’s with these memories wizzing past me and I’m grasping at all I can get, but ending up short every time.
Each year brings something new to enjoy about my kids, but with each year I now the clock is about to strike midnight and the party will be over.