June 18, 2010 – a day that (in our house, at least) will live in infamy – Toy Story 3 was finally and deliberately released by producers and directors from the Empire of Pixar Studios…
So here it is. Andy’s growing up and heading off to college, and his toys – though they have vowed to “be there for him whenever he needs them” – are feeling the change, too.
My children have anticipated this day for a year. They have eagerly talked about it, made plans to see it, and stopped all activity to pay full attention whenever they saw a preview or trailer.
I, on the other hand, have feared for this day. Well, not actually *THIS* day, as I enjoy the Toy Story movies, too. But the day it represents to every parent. The day when we finally push our baby birds out of the nest and watch them fly. The day that comes far too soon. The day we can never avoid…or slow down time to hold off.
I was deeply touched by one particular scene in the movie. As the day finally arrives for Andy to head off to college, he and his mother enter his bedroom – which now is completely barren except for the furniture and the familiar blue-sky and off-white stars painted on his wall. The two of them stand in the room for a moment, quiet, each alone with their own thoughts: Andy with the bittersweet reality of leaving home and the familiar behind coupled with the overwhelming excitement of all that lies ahead; his mother with the memories of her little boy and the realization that the one who stands next to her is no longer that little boy but rather a grown man – handsome, strong, and fully capable. Unable to help herself, she sheds a tear (or two) and tries her best to stifle the cry in her throat. Andy tries to reassure her that it’s okay – it’s part of life, he’s ready for this, it’s not good-bye forever – and as she holds him close to her one more time she says, “I know. It’s just that I wish I could be with you all the time.”
And that’s when I’d wished I’d paid the extra 3 bucks to watch it in 3-D so I could have hidden my own tears behind those silly-looking glasses. I looked over at that not-so-small-anymore boy sitting next to me and was overwhelmed with the fact that in only 8 short years, we will be reenacting our own version of that scene. We are more than halfway to the end of Trey’s childhood and the beginning of his life “on his own.”  And I pause to wonder, does he know…
… how much I love him? How much his Dad loves him? How sometimes I love him so much it makes me hurt inside?
…how blessed I feel to know that God entrusted me with HIM? Not just any child, but THIS one? How many nights my heart pleaded and my arms ached to hold a baby of my own…and what an answer to prayer he is?
…how amazed I am by his spirit, his endless capacity to love and forgive, and his thirst to know God more deeply? How in awe I am of his willingness to reach out to others, how he never knows a stranger, how he is able to put others at ease in his presence so effortlessly?
…how talented and gifted he truly is? How he never needs to doubt himself or what he can do? How big God’s plans are for his life and how I see him doing something truly meaningful and making an impact in this world someday?
…how much joy he brings to my heart just by the light of his life, his smile, and his charming personality? How sometimes I just soak him in, trying to capture and remember each moment, frozen in time, to carry in my heart forever?
…how proud I am of him? How it makes my heart swell to hear the words of praise and affirmation that are heaped on him by those who know him? How even perfect strangers have come up to me and shared with me what a delight my son is, and how truly special he must be?
No, I don’t suppose he will ever truly know those things. But that’s okay. Because for now, I have him with me. I can be with him all the time. And I can assure you, I will treasure every moment.