Hazard Lights

My boy is going to all-day kindergarten in five short days. And I'm kind of freaking out about it.

At church last Sunday a cute girl bore her testimony and confessed that she was scared to go away to college. Then her daddy got up and recited the classic, "The only constant in life is change." It seemed to be a recurring theme for the day, and all I kept thinking was, "Kindergarten today . . . college tomorrow." Waaah! I don't want him to go! This is the end of our uninterrupted, untainted life together. I don't want him to get too old to hold my hand. I don't want him to get his feelings hurt on the playground or in the cafeteria. I don't want him to get old enough to ride his bike around town without me following in my van with the hazard lights on. Waaah! (Did I already say that?)

On the other hand, it came to me last Sunday that "Daddy" was missing something from his cliche: the only constants in life are change and the gospel (let's ignore death and taxes for this one, k?). Gospel truths are undeniable, the atonement is all-encompassing, God's love is infinite. I find comfort in thinking that God probably feels a lot like the parent of a kindergartener when He sends us to earth to prove ourselves. How can I expect Gavin to progress and find joy and meaning and wisdom, and yet never lose his baby teeth?

If you happen to see me next Wednesday, don't be scared to offer me a tissue--or a towel--for the amount of gooey liquid pouring from my face. I can almost guarantee you I'll get over it . . . someday.