(First published April 4, 2022).

Sunset isn’t a singular moment, but a series of them. You watch sunset as a process: first, the descent to the horizon, then the moment the sun slips below, then the remaining silent, sweet moments as the rays follow. Today is done; tomorrow will come.

I’m going through a sunset year. I knew, four years ago, that I would have the homeschool high school years alone with my youngest son, and that after that, the sun would set on this season of my life. And here we are: nine weeks until completion of his high school education and my 16 year journey of homeschooling. I watched the sun descend these past four years, treasuring the final few life-moments, relatively, of his childhood. He turned 18 last fall: sunset. Now, I watch those suspended moments of rays as they slip slowly below the horizon too. The fall of Rome in our history studies will echo the fall of the curtain on home education.

But those rays hold sunshine: such precious memories over these past nearly two decades of being at home with my guys, especially the youngest two who I have somehow, by God’s grace, taken from alphabets to diplomas. The rays are deep, rich, many-hued. There were hard days that felt like failure and frustration at the end of them, fantastic days where academic connections were made and character solidified, and thousands of just ordinary, get-the-work-done days. I am so grateful to have had this wonderful season. Treasure!

However, this sunset itself is multifaceted, because, to switch analogies for a quick minute, it is just the trigger to a domino cascade. This son graduates; homeschool years end; raising-four-sons ends; my identity shifts. He heads out into some uncertainty, but is loaded with some unique gifts we’re all confident God is gonna plug in; changes and discoveries ahead. Another son graduates community college; heads out of town to transfer to a university; our family’s first move-away-out-of-town; changes and discoveries for him. For the first time in 29 years, there will only be one son under this roof. Lastly, I’m heading back to work part-time; my first “first day of work” in 27 years in a field with which I am unfamiliar; changes and discoveries for me.

The sunset changes and discoveries all come with questions. Mine are—who am I when I am not “mom” and “teacher”? What do “I” want to do with the rest of my life? What have I put aside that I want to pick back up—are those still things significant to me after 32 years of parenting? Who I was then is not who I am now; some of those things are shallow, no longer hold appeal. I have some ideas, but need direction and confirmation. I know Jesus has it all mapped out, so I’m seeking, praying, reading, worshiping.

I guess I’ll hashtag the events of the next several sunset-rays months #chchchchchanges2022. Or maybe #sunsetsunrise, to switch around the melancholy but oh-so-full-of-truth iconic Fiddler on the Roof song. We will miss the warmth of the long season that has been this “day” in our family, but dawn will bring new sunshine, new joy, new hope, new seasons.

“Today” will be done. “Tomorrow” will come.

Let’s go.