The days are slowing. I know that my seniors feel the slowness. They ask me, “How many more days, how many more minutes?” all the time.
But, time is slowing in a different manner for me. The camera of my eye is taking them in at slower, more focused speeds. And I am seeing them differently. I move near to them and something in my spirit stills me and shows me more than I have seen before: a depth being pressed out, as parental presence is pushed aside. And it makes me smile, to see the real them gaining ground. They get more beautiful, more handsome in themselves everyday. It kinda shakes me, this wonderful, terrible work of God in them.
Parents get afraid and I get glad. ( God, help me see the same with mine next year.)
I love these young men and women. This motley crew of misfits and manueverers, now men in the making. These silly girls now suddenly serious and stunning. I barely recognize them – these whom I might just know best. They are the subjects of my study, they who have spent thousands of hours with me in class, many more in worship, praying and hiking trails and watching ball games and eating Cheezits and BWC potatoes and crying and hoping and dreaming of what just might be…
I hope they know how happy I am to have spent all that time – the most precious thing I have – in their company, learning of them. I hope that they know that I am as for them as I know how to be. I hope they can see just a little of who they are becoming, in my eyes.