{snapshots}

"Journal it," she said.  "Take notes, tuck it all away: how you feel, what you're thinking."

That was a dear friend's advice as May dawned.  Hugging me at the first "senior" festivity of many this month, she spoke with wisdom.  She'd been down this road before...twice.  She knew the joy, the angst, the pride, the dread, the thankfulness---all rolled up into one unpredictable, sometimes confusing tangled mass of emotions.

So here are some of the snapshots I've tucked away this month. With our firstborn's graduation just 2 days away, my heart is  overflowing as I reflect on so many precious moments...

"Salute to Seniors."  After hosting and participating in this annual event at our church for so many years, this year was intensely personal.  Spying our son practicing with the worship team before it started, the realization hit hard.  He's graduating.  

Making music with his friend as he's done sooo many times before.  These two go waaaay back.  Toothless smiles, birthday parties, and baseball games flashed through my mind as I watched them jam together once again.  Oh, I'm so thankful for the enduring, godly friendships God has provided our son throughout these years.

Mother's Day.  I've always treasured it, but all the more this year.  Having my sons near is a gift I've so often taken for granted.  But not this year.  I breathed in and inhaled them.  I recognized that I may not be enveloped in the embrace of all our sons next year.  Perhaps our oldest won't be able to make it home.  Oh, and I've discovered I take delight in being the shortest one in the family with these strong, mighty oaks towering above me.  I marvel at the way God is growing them inside and out.

His band's gig.  Our boys are all so different---gifted and talented in varying ways.  Our firstborn is the only musical one among them.  As a matter of fact, that's one of the things I'll miss most when he goes to college:  the absence of live music in our home. He and his friends formed a band in Jr. High.  Through frequent name changes, its message remained the same.    I felt that this particular concert was a special gift just for me.  In a month of almost constant running, it felt good to pause and be still; to worship along with this boy-grown-man.

Spring Pops Concert.  His last concert.  Surreal. Our son had told me months ago that the concert chorale would be singing Switchfoot's "Only Hope" at their spring concert.  As they sang this song of declaration to God, I sang along in my heart:  

And I lay my head back down

And I lift my hands and pray

To be only Yours

I pray to be only Yours

I know now You're my only hope

Capstone.  It's a long-standing tradition at our sons' high school that a requirement of one's senior year is to do a Capstone project.  Students research a social or cultural issue of their choice, conduct interviews, participate in field work, write a 12-page paper, and then present their findings for a defense panel.  Finally, after all this, we celebrate (and finally breathe) at the long-awaited Capstone celebration.  As our son desires to be a worship pastor one day, he chose to explore "The Worship War," examining both traditional and contemporary worship.  I was struck by his maturity, passion, and wisdom.  I watched him interact with spectators at his booth, confidently (yet humbly) answering questions, respecting viewpoints, looking adults in the eye, and sharing his heart for worship.  Really?  I get to be this guy's mom?  Sometimes it still floors me.

Night of Recognition.  It was the presentation of scholarships and awards---a fun night of celebration.  As I sat there, God gave me a nudge.  He confirmed in my heart that our son really is ready for this new season.  So often I view (and treat) him as my little boy of yesterday.  My eyes truly have been opened this month.  He's wise and steady; a man of integrity and virtue.  I marvel at the work God is doing in him and the ways it's so clearly evident by the fruit in his life.  

Night after night this week, we've enjoyed late night heart to heart talks with our son.  Just the three of us.  I hadn't expected that.  It's been an extraordinary gift.  Grace.  I also hadn't expected the tears that threaten nowhere at the craziest moments.  Like tonight in the grocery store.  I was shopping for items to pack for the boys' lunches tomorrow.  And it suddenly hit that it's the last school  lunch I'll ever pack for our son.  Pushing my cart through the dairy section of the grocery store, the tears slipped down my cheeks.  Yet as God imprinted on my heart many times and in many ways this month, all is grace.  I'm welcoming the moments, rejoicing in breathing and loving and aching, all evidences of grace.

"Don't grieve that it's gone, wonder that it was.

Laugh that you lived and dance that you dared.

Inhale that it happened---and it was grace."

~ Ann Voskamp