Remember the story of the widow whose oil and flour never ran out as she fed her son and Elijah during the famine? I have a Kleenex box like that. Every time a visitor to my office sheds a tear, I whip out the trusty box. I am always fearful that the next Kleenex will be the very last. Amazingly, there is always one more.
Our school year ends in 50 minutes. In 50 minutes we’ll have the Big Countdown and final cheer. In 50 minutes, the bells in our tower will ring joyously, but I’ve noticed students looking ahead with mixed feelings. Many are feeling sad about leaving friends and teachers for the summer.
This morning several people have cried in my office. A mom concerned for her two kids. A recent divorce has split the family in half. Mom is managing pretty well with all her new duties, but she has concerns for the near and distant futures.
I hand her the Kleenex box, and guess what? She picks out one more Kleenex… and then another!
Another mom drops in to wish me well as she takes her newly-graduated son – her youngest child – away from this school for the last time. She’s been a fantastic helper at Rogers over many, many years. From fundraising to friendraising, she’s done it all to make life better for all of us.
She’s suddenly overcome with nostalgia, gratitude, and sorrow at leaving. I hand her the Kleenex box, and guess what? She picks out one more Kleenex.
Dads, kids, moms, relatives, friends… they’ve all taken my Kleenex through the year. Life has been so fast over the last month that I haven’t even been able to share with you the stories that continue to happen. Soon, the bells will ring, the feet will hurry past, and the school will be empty and silent.
There is still one Kleenex left… That one’s mine.
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