I am probably more sentimental than I care to admit. More accurately, I am probably more sentimental than I realize. The other night was Jamie’s last home volleyball game. The last one. It was a good game. We did lose. But—it was the last home game. It was parent’s night. You go out on the court. They introduce you and you get a rose from your daughter.
Now there are some "last’s" that I won’t miss. I will not miss open house at the school. I will not miss school meetings. I will not miss signing permission slips. I will not miss dues and fees. But–I will miss volleyball. Sitting with great parents. Hugging kids afterwards. Just the joy of being with my child.
I have to admit. I didn’t understand the significance of "last" until our oldest had graduated. I watched others go through it, but I didn’t understand.
Of course there are things more important on this earth than a volleyball game. It is not the sport. It is just the experience of being with my child through something that she has worked very hard for.
Again, I am realizing that my time with my children is not forever.
Am I giving my child memories of an available, connected, encouraging Dad? (or Mom)
Am I giving my child memories of a Dad who loved her mother and who was faithful to the promises that he made?
Am I giving my child the knowledge of the Gospel both by example and by words? Does my child see in me a consistent witness of what I claim to believe?
Am I leaving my child sweet memories of laughter and joy at home?
Am I passing on to my child a passion (what we might have called "urgency" in former years) for Jesus?
Am I leaving my child with memories of a Dad/Mom who dared to be different? Did she see that her Dad/Mom tried to do what was right even when no one was looking?
Ok, I know. This is just life. This is something that every parent goes through. I know that there are many more joyful moments to come. Still, I don’t think that I am old enough to have kids that are growing up!
I guess that I just want to savor this.