Kinda weird to recognize “lasts” before they happen. Usually we don’t think of something as being our “last time” until after it has happened and then there is a death or something and we don’t get the chance to do it again, whatever “it” is. Not this time. I’ve known this “last” was coming for years.
I hold father’s interviews on the first Sunday of each month. We call them “dad time”. Our family has been holding these “interviews” since Landon, our oldest, was just a baby. We’ve missed a few months over the last eighteen years, but not many. I think we refer to them as “dad time” since “interviews” makes them sound much more formal than they were ever intended to be. Really, one child at a time, we hang out in one of the rooms of our home and just talk. We talk about whatever they want. These sessions don’t last more than about ten minutes each. There’s no lecturing. There’s a lot of listening. It’s been nice. A lot of laughing, as you can imagine if you know us.
Since Landon is the oldest, he’s been in on more of these than any of the other children. We used to lay on our backs in the hallway of our previous home and put our feet up on the walls and talk. He’d sing songs he was learning in church or school. He’d recite the alphabet. We’d laugh a lot. I’d ask him about school, friends, chores, mom. As he got older we’d sit in my room and talk about sports, school responsibilities, friend relationships, girls. We’ve talked about sex, the internet, alcohol, peer pressure, disappointments, triumphs. We’ve talked about serving as a missionary and worshipping in the temple. We’ve talked about marriage. Sometimes we’ve just talked about kind of nothing…just little things that were going on. We’ve done so many that very few of these interviews really stand out.
Once, when Landon was about five or six, he had kind of a letdown birthday moment, right in the middle of the party. Trying to be brave, he didn’t cry in front of the grandparents and cousins, but I could tell he was really sad and disappointed. During a quiet moment in the party, he walked over to me, climbed up on my lap and said, “Dad, could we do a ‘dad time’?” I guess he thought it would help him get through his struggle.
Today is the first Sunday of November, and the last Sunday that Landon will be in our home as a permanent resident. He’ll be off to Mexico in a little over a week, to serve that mission we talked about so many times. So…many…times. Today is our last “dad time” for awhile.
The goal wasn’t to hold eighteen years’ worth of interviews. It was to build a relationship. It was to make it so very clear that he, and each of our children, could come to us anytime and share anything. It was to express love and dedication and support. It was to make it crystal clear that no matter what had taken place over the course of the month–whether there were good choices or bad–Dad was always going to love them and want to hear from them. No matter what.
I’m excited for these next two years. We’ll communicate through letters and emails and a few treasured phone calls or Skype sessions while he is serving in Mexico. We’ll send packages and celebrate success and pray for help when there are the inevitable struggles. What a blessing, for sure.
But I can’t wait until that next “dad time”…
Be encouraging, as always,