Tuesday, August 19, 2008

August 8th was a big day



Suddenly we are the parents of an eighteen-year-old.

What a joy.



The first picture is extra-special to me. These were my "three children under the age of three" back in 1993. Those were intense days filled with cloth diapers, tight budgets, fairy dances and Tonka trucks. They were physically demanding days because no one could tie their own shoes, bathe alone or read; I had to be all things to all of them all of the time.

These days I tie no little shoes, I wash no diapers, and I trip no longer over Tonka trucks on the way to the clothesline. Instead, we have swing dances, Facebook, intense conversations about our significance and the nature of God, and the challenge of providing adequate supplies of beans and tortillas to keep hollow boys full.

Eighteen years ago I couldn't picture this season. Many offered doomsday predictions for our future years ("Don't you know they'll ALL BE TEENAGERS at the same time?") but they were wrong. I am keenly aware that these are the days we will miss. These are the good old days.

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