I ran into Logan’s preschool teacher the other day. We haven’t seen one another in a good two years-the same can be said for Logan. However, to my surprise she remembered me and immediately asked how Logan was! She remembered his name (even though I was scrambling to remember hers!!). Is this some magic ability that teachers possess? The ability to retain names and family members of former students indefinitely? Certainly possible, I think, and not unlikely.

She asked how he was doing and I told her that he was great and has gotten so big, she wouldn’t even believe it. And do you know what she said next? I will tell you! As her smile turned into a very sad curl of her lips, she said, “Oh that is so sad!” 

Little Logan

I found myself then experiencing the same sad curl of my lips and whole heartedly agreeing with her! “Yes, I know,” I said. “So sad.”

Little Eli

But after that I began to play back our conversation in my head and think about how strange it actually is that we should label the growing up of our kids as terribly saddening. After all,  shouldn’t we want them to grow up, thrive and become wonderful people-bred from us? Seriously. I wouldn’t want to consider the alternative, whatever that is.

I began thinking about why I feel sad that my boys are growing up. Or, more specifically, things I miss about their earlier years. And, I’m not interested in creating a sob story here…I can’t bear it, myself. But, here’s the bottom line, according to me…

While each stage of their lives offer different challenges and things that I label “the hardest part,” I would like to admit right now that although my kids are becoming more self-sufficient and independent, that doesn’t necessarily equal easy. In fact, the one thing I will label as the saddest about them growing up is the reality that I can’t protect them anymore. Once they are out there, I can’t always be there to cover their ears from bad words or questionable ideas.  I can’t cover their eyes from scary images or negative influences. I can’t step in between them and other children with whom I may not want running around together.

I can’t magically stop time right before they become teenagers and fast forward until sometime after that. What age would I pick to resume, even? Now that’s a hard question to answer. I guess whatever the age, it would have them stable, happy, successful, loving, compassionate, faithful, loyal, mature…all around good-guys. And, if I’m sad that they are growing and are finding that other things rise and set with the sun besides Chris and I, I can only hope and pray that we have done the best that we know how to do to set them up for that.

I think I don’t have a moral to this little story or a wise bit to close with. But, I will leave you with two things. As I was hanging up the phone after a conversation with my mom today, I said, “I’m going to go tell my kids I love them.” And I did. Then I hugged them, like really closed my eyes and hugged them and I discovered that as long as I can still do that-and they let me-I’ll be OK. I think…