Yesterday Harrison, Lachlan, and Blakely started another school year. They join tens of thousands of kids embarking on another year of learning, playing, etc. On the surface, there is nothing exceptionally special about the first day of school, other than moms snapping shots of kids and posting them to Facebook.
But for Harrison, and the tens of thousands of other kids with cancer, every first day of school is a huge accomplishment. It is a milestone like almost no other. The first day of school represents another year of survival.
We’ve known personally several children who lost their battle with cancer just in the twelve months since Harrison’s first day of sixth grade. We’ve talked to dozens of new members of the childhood cancer community. Every week we get phone calls, emails, and direct messages from new families with childhood cancer.
It’s never ending.
The first day of school for all of our kids is special. Yes, we took pictures. Yes, we posted them to social media. Yes, they all thought we were silly for making them do it. And yes, we’ll do it again next year.
This morning I read to the kids from Psalm 144:4, “Man is like a breath.”
We are here one day and gone the next.
I am grateful we took three pictures today. One of a senior. One of a sophomore. And one of a kid who almost never made it out of fourth grade, but is today beginning life as a seventh grader. Previously, we took pictures for sentimentality. Now we take pictures for the hope each one offers. Because each day, each year, is like a breath.