Confetti

There are firsts and lasts sprinkled throughout our lives like confetti. I found one of them in my dryer the other day. 

They tend to pop up unexpectedly in that way, like a piece of New Year’s confetti found under the couch in October. You’ll be minding our own business, tending to your everyday duties, living your life, when out of nowhere comes a reminder. A notification of how much time has passed. An alert of how little time is left.

This is the first time she will…

This is the last time he will…

Time.

Time.

Time.

Time isn’t a thief. It’s the alarm system.

My youngest, the 11-year-old, now does his own laundry. But I’m thankful I decided to pull it out of the dryer for him the other day. There have been a gazillion church children’s department check-in tags found in our dryer over the years; stuck to shirts in a now-permanent way, wadded up in pants pockets, in semi-disintegrated fragments. Confetti. 

But on this day, I pulled out the very last one.

Our dryer will no longer dry the clothes of children. No, from this moment forward, it gently tumbles the garments of students, teens in the youth group, grown people who walk themselves to class without…sniff, sniff… the help of a parent.

Confetti. It has a way of showing up unexpectedly down the road, symbolizing the passing of time, triggering nostalgic and bittersweet emotions. 

But it also symbolizes celebration, does it not? 

And raising God-honoring humans who can do laundry is something to celebrate.

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