Treasure (James 4:13-14)

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It happens every August, and it may be the only time Dads drive the speed limit. The "treasure" in the back seat is leaving the nest; Junior is going to college. Old Pop claims to have looked forward to this day for a long time, but it's just a mask. He hopes to be able to wear it until he can be alone again. There he will reminisce about a little boy who grew up too fast...and shed a tear or two.

The trunk of the car is full of stuff, but not all of it. Eighteen years of memorabilia will be left in his room at home to gather dust and take up space. The clueless one who has collected it all will expect you not to touch it unless you are cleaning it. When time passes and it's all taken down and stored in a box, he'll be somewhat offended. It's a rite of passage. Let it happen.

Mom will be in the front seat - quiet. Her eyes are red, and she's afraid to say a word for fear that a flood of tears will come again. This is supposed to be a happy time, but she just can't quite get over the hump. This is her baby, a part of herself that she once described as the taking of her heart and putting arms and legs on it, is now walking away. Just yesterday he was saying his first words and taking his first tiny steps. The enemy called "time" has taken something very dear.

Although much investment was made in Junior, they wish they could have done more. The following poem by Alice E. Chase somewhat sums up what is going through Mom and Dad's mind:

My hands were busy through the day; I didn't have much time to play
The little games you asked me to, I didn't have much time foryou.

I'd wash your clothes; I'd sew and cook, but when you'd bring your picture book
And ask me, please, to share your fun, I'd say, "A little later, son."

I'd tuck you in all safe at night, And hear your prayers, turn out the light,
Then tiptoe softly to the door, I wish I'd stayed a minute more.

For life is short, and years rush past, A little boy grows up so fast,
No longer is he at your side, His precious secrets to confide.

The picture books are put away, There are no children's games to play.
No goodnight kiss, no prayers to hear, That all belongs to yesteryear.

My hands once busy, now lie still, The days are long and hard to fill,
I wish I might go back and do, The little things you asked me to.

The clueless one in the back seat can't wait to "get out on his own;" not a curfew in sight; new friends, new pad, new scenery, new life. He really doesn't understand all that rides the wagon of "getting out on your own." He will learn that eating out is pretty expensive. That car insurance is outrageously expensive. That you don't wash whites with colors, (reds + whites = pink underwear). And washing, drying, ironing, and folding take up a lot of leisure time. School is hard. He will learn these lessons soon enough, and just like always, when he cries out in despair, Mom and Dad will be there to help. And someday, he may even say "thank you" for all they have provided in those first eighteen years, or maybe just knowing how much he enjoyed everything provided will be thank you enough.

You know, now that I think about it, maybe the clueless one isn't so clueless after all. He is enjoying every moment, tasting life, and living it to the fullest. Which is exactly what the parents are wishing they had done more of...with him. The seemingly urgent tasks that rudely crowded out time with their precious one are long forgotten, but there's no second chance, no turning back the clock. Oh, they've been good parents, but mourning the past is part of the process. They mourn as much for the passing of their youth as they do for the emergence of his independence. And if he weren't leaving the nest, something would be terribly wrong. It just passed too quickly...far too quickly.

God doesn't give us children, He loans them to us; they are a treasure beyond measure. The treasure called "life" is much the same. So let's enjoy the treasure and spend it wisely - while it is still today. For before long, just as we did, the treasure discovers it has wings and flies away - like most treasures. This moment in time, my friend, is a gift from God that can only be enjoyed...right now. Go to it. Taste it. Make it count.

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