Where Has The Time Gone?

As I sat at the table flipping through the folder I had been handed, my mind began to wander back in time.  Thirteen years ago Nathan and I were sitting at table flipping through a packet of papers handed to us.  However, that table was two foot off the ground and sitting in those chairs put your knees in your chest.  The table I was currently sitting at was adult sized, and there weren't divided containers sitting in the middle of the table holding crayons, scissors and glue sticks.  Her name wasn't written on a cute card taped across the top the table in front of the chair she sat in each day.  Instead of being given a sample of sight words they would need to learn during the year, we were given a list of websites to register our children for scholarships and told to have our children begin filling out college applications.

That year was her first year, this year is her last year.

Lord, how did we get here so quickly?  Where has the time gone?

Kindergarten was an emotional year for me.  She was so little, and the school seemed so big for her.  As I walked her to class on the first day of school, she looked at me and said, "You're not going to cry and embarrass me are you?"  I tried to hold back the tears, but after she walked into her classroom, hung up her backpack and sat down at her seat, I stood in the hallway beside the door and cried ... along with ten other moms.  In fact, I cried all the way to work.  She was full of excitement and confidence.  I was full of anxiety and fear.

(These were taken two weeks after she began kindergarten.)

The first day of her senior year was just as emotional for me.  Probably more so actually.  She looked at me and said with a giggle, "Are you going to cry all day?".  I did cry.  Not all day; just all morning.  Instead of walking her to class, she drove herself to school.  She bounced out of the house with more excitement and even more confidence than she had as a tiny four-year-old.  I wasn't full of anxiety and fear though.  I was excited for her.  I was full of gratitude.  The Lord had held her tightly the past thirteen years, and I was confident He wasn't going to loosen His grip now.

(These pictures were taken two weeks before her senior year began.)

Sara's plans have changed over the years.  In kindergarten when you asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, she would say she wanted to be a teacher like her daddy.  Today her goal is to become a physical therapist.  There is always the possibility she will change her mind, although she seems set in her plans.  I am so grateful the plan the Lord has for her life will never change.  And His plan is the perfect plan for her.

Thank you, Lord, for always holding her tightly in the palm of Your hand.  Thank you for promising to never let her go.  Thank you for redeeming every mistake I have made as a parent.  Thank you for loving her, and for molding her heart into a heart like Yours.

For I know the plans that I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope. ~ Jeremiah 29:11