Moving Back a Row
My daughter graduated from Kindergarten today.
For the end of the year program, each class takes turns standing up on the stage and performing their recitations. My daughter’s class had a song, a poem, and a Bible verse to recite.
My daughter HATES recitation. And truth be told – it is really not her strength.
So, she stood up there on the stage with her purple glasses and her gorgeous dark brown skin amid the paler, and her height placing her smack dab in the middle, and she fidgeted and rolled her eyes, and looked down at her feet, and played with her clothing
It was perfection.
Upon completion, a tradition ensues.
Every class moves one row back,
thus indicating that they are officially of the next grade level up.
My daughter’s class, the youngest, has had by far the best view this year. They have been in the very front row. They have been able to see and understand everything so clearly and without much effort. They have not had to contort their bodies into unnatural positions to see what is happening, nor have they had to constantly shush others in order for them to be able to hear and be informed.
That seems to be how life is.
We start with a front row seat.
Everything is clear and understandable.
We have the best view of life, filled with hope and promise.
We have so few distractions.
And then -year after year –
we move back a row.
Our vision is not as clear and focused.
Some confusion sets in. Doubt as well.
We are distracted by those around us, within our eye’s view or even on the periphery.
And most likely – we miss something, no matter how we struggle to be in the best possible position.
Until finally, we are so far in the back, that someone needs to escort us to the front row.
For that perfectly crystal clear view
Of the Finale.