Do you ever get a song stuck in your head? So stuck that when you wake up in the morning, there it is, having elbowed its way to the front of the line to greet you in your first conscious moment. So stuck that as you go about your day, there it is, banging around in your brain like a pinball. So stuck that as you drift off to sleep, there it is, playing like a movie soundtrack behind your blurry thoughts.
That’s been my story for several weeks now. I wish I could tell you I’m such a spiritual giant that the song stuck in my head is a great hymn of the faith, perhaps “Amazing Grace” or “A Mighty Fortress is Our God.” But I’m not, and it’s not. (I am, however, thankful to report that it is not the “Barney” theme song or a sleazy Barry White love ballad.)
The tune that keeps playing in my head right now is “Sunrise, Sunset” from the musical, “Fiddler on the Roof.” I’m not kidding. I’ve only seen “Fiddler on the Roof” a couple of times, and that was a long time ago, and yet, this song – this heart-wrenching song I barely know – turns over and over in my mind.
I joke about it. Friends ask, “How are you doing?” and I say, “I’d be fine if I could stop singing ‘Sunrise, Sunset’ in my head all the time.”
They laugh and understand … because they know my oldest son is getting married … today, as a matter of fact. Even as you read this, I’m in the midst of a significant life change. A happy one, to be sure, but a real change, nonetheless, and those are never particularly easy – even the happy ones.
Is this the little girl I carried? Is this the little boy at play?
I don’t remember growing older– when did they?
Yes, when did he? How’d that happen? Sure, some days (and many nights) seemed to last forever, but the years … the years have raced by so quickly they are but a blur.
When did she get to be a beauty? When did he get to be so tall?
Wasn’t it yesterday when they were small?
Yes, wasn’t it? How did I blink and go from picking up Legos and reading “Goodnight Moon” to planning a rehearsal dinner? The diapers, the ear infections, the plastic dinosaurs under the couch cushions, the ball games, “Star Wars” … and yet more “Star Wars” – how did 23 years sneak by like this?
Sunrise, sunset — sunrise, sunset — swiftly fly the years…
I look in the mirror, I look at my son, and there’s no mistaking it — time has passed. It has most definitely passed. Where was I when that happened?
Doing, I suppose, what all parents do in the parenting season of life: Walking the floor with a colicky baby; desperately hunting for a lost blankie; sitting in the bleachers practice after practice and game after game; finding bugs for the science project; cooking, cleaning, hugging, carpooling, disciplining, encouraging, scheduling, budgeting, laughing, worrying, repenting, and praying, praying, praying that I won’t botch this whole parenthood thing too badly.
And praying that my son will love God, and be faithful and good and strong … and blessed to find a wife who is, too.
And by the grace of God, he is, and he did. And I am humbly grateful beyond words.
One season following another, laden with happiness and tears.