The Month of Lasts
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| Photo Credit @Bethanyjaynephotography |
There are three kinds of lasts. The kind you don't know are the last. The kind you suspect might be. And the kind you know without a doubt are coming.
To this day I don't know when the last time was that we went through the whole bedtime routine...stories, prayers, kisses on foreheads. It was never intentional. It just faded slowly. I'm not sure when the boys stopped playing with the Thomas the Tank Engine set or watching Daniel Tiger's neighborhood. I didn't know I was closing a chapter when we sat at our last Little League game. The boys just never played again.
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| photo credit Emily Strunk |
I didn't know when I cleaned up and locked the children's church classroom in early 2020 that I would never be having children's church in there again and that ministry from that week forward would look forever changed. I didn't know when we were celebrating our last Christmas with Susan. Or when I was speaking to Pastor David for the last time over the phone, sitting in my office at church.
There were lasts I knew were just a matter of time. I was pretty sure that I knew when my last Father's Day with my Dad was. The last few real conversations and meals shared. I knew when friends were growing distant. People were changing. Favorite businesses closing, or old landmarks torn down. I knew even if I didn't KNOW.
But this month has been a month of those more predictable kinds of lasts. And I don't know entirely if that makes them more or less difficult, but it does allow us to be aware. To savor in a way. I've been momming real hard lately. Leaning into the things I do as a mom of teens the way I used to lean into the trenches of being a mom of a toddler. In the last few months an enormous part of my life has been devoted to being these two guys' personal uber and door dash driver, fan club, therapist, schedule manager, and locator of random pieces of urgently needed clothing. Party planner, scribe, general chaos coordinator. Because it feels like life has suddenly sped up and I don't want to blink and miss any of it.
Moses has had two of the most amazing years of his life and I can probably count on one hand the people who would say that about the junior high experience. I am definitely not one of those people. But somehow Moses is.
The Shepherd choir and musical theater has been life changing for him. He's been able to tap into a part of himself he didn't know was there. These kids are held to a pretty high standard and have a great legacy to uphold. So, they push hard and are expected to give 100% every single time. But that's not what impresses me most, because, honestly, after 44 years I've learned that measurable achievements aren't what carry us the farthest in life. What I loved even more was the socio-emotional aspects. The environment was set for them to develop these encouraging, affirming, protective peer groups. They made beautiful memories together, and they provided a safe place in a big, scary world. So, the Shepherd choir lasts came with some big emotions. The week of the last performance included two long dress rehearsals and two nights of performances and lots of tears.
There's been a last assembly, a last field trip to perform at the school board meeting, last lunches in the choir room.
For me, my last time subbing for my favorite teacher who's leaving. My last time with certain classes. Or eating with my favorite teaching assistant, Natalie.
And then the last awards night. We knew Mo had been nominated for his grades (the presidential awards for academic excellence) and one other "surprise." We tried guessing what it might be. We got down to the bottom of the list and he still hadn't been called for any of the classes or clubs. You guys...it was eight grade student of the year! Along with his friend, Riley. My heart was so full. I know he's a sweetheart. He's kind to everyone. I've seen it with my own eyes. He holds the door for about 50 kids walking in every day. He worries about those in the fringes. The kind of person who build bigger tables. He even stands up for teachers in conversations. But to know he's seen is such a beautiful thing, and I was filled with so much love for his teachers, the administration and all of his friends there who make such a wonderful team. I believe each of them is better for the combination of what each of them bring to their little community.
Huge shout out to Lilly who texted to tell him that YES, he DID need to dress up! Look...he even combed his hair for this!
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| May 15th, 2025 |
But none of this compares to how much Daniel's "lasts" are hitting hard these past few weeks. My little boy with big blue eyes who loved to pretend he was a pirate, tell stories that started "once a time ago." This great big boy who has become my friend this year. He's had the side-character pressure of being "Moses' brother" as Mo went through cancer treatment and we worked together to avoid over 10 life-threatening food allergies. Daniel knew what it was like to learn how to use an epinephrine injector and read labels at a young age because he might have the responsibility of saving his brother's life. He gave up peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Texas Roadhouse because he was the big brother. He also had the side-character pressure of being a pastor's kid. Being first to arrive and last to leave. Knowing there are bigger ripple effects to his choices than many of his peers. Daniel's has the right-brained gifts that don't always show in a test or a GPA. Gifts of thinking outside the box, folding the world's smallest (and biggest) origami paper crane because he was bored, learning to make pizza when I wouldn't order it on Halloween this year, making everyone laugh with his witty one liners and intentional fashion choices. And I felt like he really found his people and his voice this year. And it kind of made me wish he had four more years of this high school thing.
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| Photo Credit @Bethanyjaynephotography |
Last month there was the last school trip with his guitar friends to Universal Studios. The last guitar concert. The last group projects. Tests. His last Friday. This week will be the last time I pick him up early from the Red Mountain Parking Lot. The last time I check Parent Portal while saying a little prayer. I think I've already come to grips with the last time I could make him get a hair cut and I think the last time I can demand he eat something green and go to bed by ten are running slim too. I guess I'm going to have to hope that we did the best we could with the time we had.
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| Photo Credit @Bethanyjaynephotography |
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| Photo Credit @Bethanyjaynephotography |
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| Photo Credit @Bethanyjaynephotography |
Yesterday we celebrated. In so many ways it was everything I wanted for him. Family we see often and family we see for the really extra special stuff came from far and near. Those who have been spiritual mentors to him over the years like Pastor Kurtis, Pastor Andy, and Pastor Bob were there. Youth group leaders Michelle, Joel and Parker. Friends he's known since birth, friends he's picked up along the way and cousins all played a crazy made-up game of balloon volleyball. I got carried away with so many pictures, an extra cheesy playlist and extra, extra cheesy mac and cheese bar.
Thursday we're going to watch him walk across the field, out of his childhood and into adulthood.
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| Photo Credit @Bethanyjaynephotography |
But I think it's ok to take a little time to feel all of the feelings. To grieve that we won't be watching Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood anymore, and that who they were and who we used to be are changing a little. I think it's ok to name the regrets, the victories, the changes, and what's making us happy-sad. It's ok to cry if that's your thing. Or get carried away with decorating for the grad party with too many pictures. Or eating all of the leftover chocolate chip cookies afterwards if you feel like it might help. And if you don't have any chocolate chip cookies...come on over. I got you.
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