One parade ends, another begins

Around 1983 I attended the first school program for one of my children. Rachel would have been almost three. I don't remember the date but I remember sitting with other young parents for a series of songs or nursery rhymes at a preschool in Pine Bluff, Arkansas. We were the parents whose daughter was not only proudly up on the stage but also was singled out as being the first to know her ABC's and the sounds of all the letters.

I remember thinking at the time that it was the beginning of a long road of school programs and that my life would no doubt be very different at the last one than it was for the first one. Last night was one of those last programs. A choir concert. I love watching Caroline sing, even when I can't pick out her voice. No one I know shows an expression of joy in singing like she does. No one that I have ever seen. When she sings it fills her heart, her voice, her face, her hands.

Over the years I have been priviledged to watch my children on a parade of accomplishments and activities. Sometimes as one of the best in class, sometimes simply doing what they loved. Baseball, football, acting. Piano recitals, skits, public speaking. Band concerts, scouts, Indian Princess and Indian Guides. Nothing compares with watching them do what they love..

Last night was a reminder that the long string of school performances is drawing to a close. How many are left? A couple more this year, a half dozen next, and then gone. No more rushing to the school or a ball park from work.  No more waiting through all the others for my child's turn to perform. No more checking off items on school programs. It is almost over.

But the really fascinating stuff is just starting. Things I won't usually see. Day by day work to become "all that God intends for them to be", a big phrase made up of countless hourly and daily pieces. To be great workers and ponderers of problems carving out a way to earn their living. Turning some of this creative stuff we have into something they can exchange for a meal, or four walls, or a smile from a loved one. Perhaps they'll do this as spouses and parents, watching their own up on stage. Regardless of how it happens I know they'll fall into some of the same joys and mistakes and pains that I did, and probably invent some new ways of suffering and celebrating along the way. 

I expect that each of them will do a lot to guide others through this life. Sharing what they've been given. This long parade of programs has been wondrous, some of the real stuff of life, but also practice. Practice for the real show, where they write the program, and they decide what act comes next. The grand parade, on the stage that matters, and the performance that counts.