I was loading the washing machine one afternoon when the door from the garage flew open and slammed into the wall.  I jumped out of the way of the hoard of boys.  Two…four…seven boys ranging from 6 to 12 flung off their dirty shoes and careened through the laundry room, yelling battle cries as they trampled through the hall and down the stairs.  Nerf darts pinged off walls and swords clashed.  I quickly finished putting on the laundry and jumped out of the way as the mighty warriors flew out to their noble steeds, those creaky and well-used mountain bikes left piled on the driveway.

This was a blessedly typical afternoon scene thanks to a relatively safe neighborhood and a couple homeschool families who value physical activity, fresh air, and imagination.  My two boys made wonderful friends over the last year and have had months of wild roamings and epic battles.  The summer was full of running house to house, eating popsicles, and playing ball games. They often took meandering, contemplative bike rides where they discussed books, theology, politics, and life, mimicking conversations had over the dinner table with their families.  It’s been pretty perfect.

My husband and I have been comfortable letting these boys all play together because the friends are sweet, innocent, fun boys who have a good dose of street smarts. It has been a beautiful summer, one for the books, the kind parents hope and dream of for their children.  I had my own memorable long summers of swimming, bikes, and baseball that I prayed my children would have, and God has provided.  

However, these beautiful days are coming to an end this weekend not just because the weather is changing drastically, but because our friends are moving.  They will load up the moving truck and drive across the country in a couple days.  A new adventure awaits them, and the little boys have the promise of a farmhouse on rolling, green hills, a treehouse, and room to roam.  It’s a typical bittersweet moment: happiness for the new journey, sadness for loss of friends.

This is the first time my boys have had such a big change.  While they have changed schools and left classmates, this is the first time they’ve made real friendships, only to have to say good-bye.  

It is hard to see my boys experience the sadness of life, and I know this is not the first time this will happen.  I do not know how they will handle it, but I know tears well up behind my eyes when I think of it.  

I don’t know if changes and saying good-bye ever get easier, but I suppose we do learn how to handle it.  It seems like right now there are a lot of changes going on– it seems like everyone we know is moving.  Flux is a part of life, and while we have tried to minimize too much change for our kids, it is natural and normal.  They’ll learn to deal with it, my husband and I will be there for them, and we’ll keep moving forward.

We will discuss the constancy of God’s presence.  We’ll bring up the foundation and cornerstone of family.  Perhaps this will be a great time to practice handwriting and letter writing skills, or even plan a vacation to the Appalachians to visit those green, rolling hills.  

But in the end, there will probably just be a need for mourning.  The boys will need to spend time in sadness.  Slowly the sadness will change to acceptance and then, hopefully, gratitude.  Fond memories will settle into their souls.  There, they’ll find the courage to make new friends and begin the cycle again, to look ahead with joy and expectation.  

I imagine we will all look back on this summer as the happiest of times, and I hope those  memories bolster the boys and give them strength and courage for the future.  Change and loss is never easy, but learning it slowly as a child seems to be a natural and healthy way of growing.  I am still learning it, all these years, and probably will continue until we are all in our final home.  It’s not a bad lesson to learn: to be grateful for the time we have together, learn to live in the moment the best we can, and take life as it comes.