And just like that ... it was gone

Read Joey Haynes’ column and see what’s coming up in the church calendar.

May these thoughts from last summer help you make your summers count. Last year, in a video, Jason Momoa said “I only have five more years, five more summers (with my kids) until I’m not the center of their universe.“His words spoke to me. As soon as our children take their first steps they begin walking away from us. When I’m an old man sitting in my rocking chair thinking about yesterday, these are the things I will remember:

Ground balls and pop flies, the birthday party for two and the annual trip to Big Blue basketball camp.

I will think back to that day in June when Sadie got her ears pierced and the afternoon when Sam caught a fish on four casts in a row. I will remember the laughter of two kids lying on pallets on the living room floor and staying up until 2 or 3 in the morning.

Afternoon runs to Frios for a pop or drinking a milkshake for lunch.

Swimming in the creek and grabbing a Redbox movie on the way home.

I will close my eyes in that rocking chair and see my two children serving others during our church service week and gathering around tables on Wednesday nights with people of different colors and sharing a bite to eat.

In my mind, I will relive all 2,244 miles of our epic road trip and watch again as my kids understood the evil that led to the deaths of Medgar Evers in Jackson, Mississippi and Dr. King in Memphis, Tennessee.

I will remember them meeting a real ballplayer from our hometown, watching them consider the arch in St. Louis, and getting to know Superman in a podunk town.

“Elvis, you are my fourth favorite singer” is what Sam wrote on the gate at Graceland. And Sadie tried hot wings and discovered she’s a fan!

That summer, they both fell in love with Nashville. They heard the blues sang in Memphis. And I will recall that, yes, that was the Summer of Fidget Spinners.

Roughly 70 days, and just like that they were gone!

That leaves us with eight summers of Sadie and 12 summers of Sam.

This summer, I had planned to finish writing a book and starting a workout plan. I had planned to paint the windows by our back door and go to concerts of some of my favorite bands.

There will be a day for writing, for painting and for listening to bands. But for the next 12 years, as far as the summers go, we will be making memories — fishing, swimming, laughing and eating ice cream. Road trips, baseball games and building community.

Their childhood won’t last forever because life keeps moving on.

And I don’t want to wake up one morning with great regrets over things we didn’t do when they still called our place home.