A Picture in a Backpack

Last Friday, our son Parker began kindergarten. And while it may seem like an overstatement, both Tonya and I felt a sense that we had been preparing him all his life for that day. His first solo day. Granted, one of his best buddies was in class with him, he'd been on a couple of tours of the school and the kindergarten teachers are accustomed to helping children in their new environment. Still, we wondered, was he ready? How would he respond?

To help Parker feel as if were still "connected" to us, we placed a picture of our family in his backpack. So, in the event he needed to be reminded that we loved him, he could pull out the picture and we would, in effect, be there with him.

When last Friday came, we arrived at the school and took a few pictures with his good buddy who was coming in with his parents at the same time. We walked him to his classroom, briefly spoke to the teachers and then we kissed him and told him, "Bye. We love you. See you at Noon". And then we just left him there. But we left him with a piece of us. That picture in the backpack. And 5+ years of training.

At Noon, we arrived back at school to pick-up Parker. He hopped in the van and told us that he "loved it" and that he is "pumped". And we were thankful. Thankful for God's blessings. Thankful that Parker is off to a great start with school. And after a few minutes of listening to him share all the exciting details of Day One, we asked if he saw the family picture in his backpack. "I knew it was there", he said, "and I thought about it all day. But I didn't need to pull it out". "Well, good" was our reply as we reminded him that he can leave it in there for any time he might need it. "I don't think I'm gonna need it", he said. And that hurt......... for about a millisecond. And in that moment we realized that he is going to be fine. That we had done our part. That he was ready.

Here's The Point: Sometimes our goals are easily definable and attainable. Sometimes they are much less so. Some are concrete while others are obtuse. Some we may never reach. Some goals, like this one, are over 5 years in the making. But the joy in attaining a goal is well worth the patient, consistent effort required. What are you working toward?