At our house, that means it was the last day of A's junior year.
With one tick of the second hand, my baby girl magically transformed from an underclassman, a lowly 11th grader, into a high school senior. A senior! How the heck did that happen?
I shouldn't be that surprised. Junior prom was a month or so back. I took a picture of her on prom day with my phone and zoomed in to discover that somehow she had morphed from a goofy, pizza-and-chicken-nugget-loving, pony-tailed artist into a stunningly beautiful woman.
Now, we're talking about the SATs, college visits, future plans and, gulp, boys.
As only God would orchestrate it, her beauty, poise and unique self are blossoming just as she has taken up gardening as a hobby.
It started with sunflower seeds a few weeks ago. She bought potting soil and seeds, pulled out a few clay pots we had collected over the years, and delicately planted the seeds. She diligently watered them and placed them in the sun. A couple of weeks ago, the seeds sprouted, sporting two symmetrical, fragile green leaves. We picked out a sunny spot in the back yard where the young plants could be transplanted, and she began cultivating.
By mid-summer I have faith that those sprouts will become big, beautiful sunflowers, reproducing the few seeds she planted to flower heads filled with more seeds. It's gonna be glorious, and well-timed. Just as those sunny faces turn skyward, E will be moving back to his new home somewhere close to Nashville, turning his face toward the bright lights of the big city where he hopes to shine.
But that's borrowing from tomorrow. I have a couple of months to drink in the life I have right now. E's buddies have all descended to gather around the fire pit out back, and A is already staying up later with her girlfriends giggling about Lord knows what. I love it when our house is filled with the laughter of young people. I'll happily grill hotdogs, buy extra soft drinks and make the occasional batch of ice cream. The long days of summer aren't long enough, and before long, they'll grow shorter. Students will go back to school. The house will grow quiet.
In the meantime, I'll tend to these kids like A does her plants.
The seeds of wisdom are already planted and mulched. This summer, I'll water the parched parts of their souls and apply fertilizer to help them bloom and produce some godly fruit. Thankfully, I have something of a green thumb.
If I get the results A has with her sunflowers, I'll be one happy man.
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