I Don't Think That They Know

I’m a mountain guy through and through.  Everyone who knows me knows that I feel most at home in the high country.  But every now and then, I set my boots aside and trade the mountains for the beach.  I have two good reasons to do so:  my wife Stephanie and my daughter Kayleigh.  To be honest, I don’t mind the opportunity to eat my weight in fresh seafood when those moments come around.  

This year’s trip was a little different.  Our son Kaleb graduated from high school last May, and as a gift, we let him choose the destination for our family vacation.  He picked 10 days in Florida, with the highlight of the trip being our opportunity to do some offshore saltwater fishing.  We soaked up plenty of sunshine on the beach, played a round of golf on the beautiful Baytowne golf course in Destin, and enjoyed some awesome downtime with our family.  It was during one of those relaxing afternoons sitting on the white sands with the waves rolling in that I started to notice something.  As I looked around at all the families nearby, I began to realize just how much we all have in common - something deep at the core of who we are.

This past year has been a whirlwind of emotion, change, and the revelation of reality. A little over a year ago, a major shift took place in our corner of the 3CC village and the Friebe family.  After nearly two years of divine moments on my timeline - and more than a few stubborn attempts on my part to dodge the inevitable - my wife and I clearly felt God calling me to step away from full-time vocational ministry back into the world of public education, making a return to coaching basketball.  Maybe one day I’ll share the full story behind that transition, but for now what matters is this:  the change touched just about every area of our lives - financial, emotionally, spiritually in some ways, relationally, you name it.  It was a complete reset. 

With the transition came a decision to hit pause on sharing through 3 Cord Crossing.  I needed some space to reflect, reevaluate, and to realign with what God was doing in my life.  In attempting to follow God, I wasn’t prepared for just how many blessings would come out of that obedience.  Towards the top of those blessings was the opportunity to spend more time with my family.  We were on the same schedule; my days off were their days off.  The majority of the events that were written in ink on our calendars were relevant to all of us.  Work, games, plays, days off, trips, due dates - all of it was often something we were able to do together as a family.  Looking back on the 2024-25 school year, I can’t fully put into words just how grateful I am to God, to my school district, to our friends, and to the family who supported us through it all.  Coaching my son Kaleb through his senior season - being on the court with him during the heart of his recruiting journey was one of the greatest honors of my life.  That time wasn’t just a season; it was a gift.  

The last 14 months certainly haven’t been without their challenges.  At the heart of those hard moments was a difficult reality that hits every parent sooner or later.  Our firstborn child was going to graduate, and he was going to leave the house. There is a statistic that states we spend over 80% our time with our children before they graduate and leave home.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the other 20%. As any parent can likely testify, looking back stirs up a mix of emotions.  You start to see the moments you can’t get back.  You wrestle with the things that could have been done differently, and you wish you could maybe rewind time and do things a little better.  There were dozens - maybe even hundreds of decisions that I wish I had maybe deployed a little differently.  Even with all the second-guessing and in the hard stuff, I was able to find peace that we had done the best we could in preparing Kaleb to go off to school.  He was ready to go, even if we weren’t ready for him to go.

Even in the throes of change, the closing of one of the most meaningful chapters of our lives, and the emotional journey of sending Kaleb off to college, I was not prepared for a hard-hitting moment one hot afternoon in the dog days of summer, sitting on a beach looking over the emerald waters of the Gulf, there was something else that left me teetering on the line of falling victim to the water that was welling up in my eyes.  As I sat there in my lounge chair, under the shade of my bucket hat, I looked up and down the endless landscape of the beach.  On both sides of me, I saw a multitude of families enjoying themselves as they watched their young kids play in the salty water, build sand castles, and bury their siblings in the sand.  I remember that season of life.  The innocence of a young mom and dad with a young kid who has no cares in the world other than filling their next bucket full of sand for the next step in their sandy construction project.  The laughs, the smiles, the joy that was evident on all the faces.  There I sat, watching moms and dads taking pictures, sipping on their Yeti, and occasionally peering over the top of their current book to make sure that their kids were still within eye-shot and safe.  

Sitting there, surrounded by strangers in moments they likely took for granted, I felt it, deep in my soul; it resonated, “They have no idea how fast this will go by.”  It was a quiet ache triggered by a somber yet reflective moment in time for me that was so surreal.  My mind wandered down the far-too-short journey of my own kids. It was a beautiful moment taking place to the soundtrack of the ebb and flow of ocean waves, and I began to remember our own story.  We certainly didn’t know how fast it would go by.  Flashing through my mind were the pictures of Kaleb and Kayleigh’s first steps, first words, first days of school, first friends, first games, first struggles, first tears, and so many other firsts.  But over the years, the firsts gave way to some of the lasts.  Their last day of high school together, Kaleb’s last games, last practices, last day living under our roof.

This last month, there have been so many new firsts to navigate.  These last two weeks, when I’m standing on our patio, sipping my morning coffee and listening to the world wake up, I’ve come to a greater understanding of just how big a blessing our kids are to us.  Before Kaleb’s departure for Tabor College to chase his dreams, I didn’t fully slow down enough to understand just how much he did around our place without me really asking him to do it.  I know this for a fact, I sure didn’t tell him “thank you” enough.  And now, Kayleigh is just a short two years behind him, and then she will head off to pursue her dreams of med school.  I’m already reminded of how unique and gifted she is - it’s honestly quite breathtaking.  But it has made me more aware of just how much I’ve maybe overlooked or failed to stop and celebrate with her in the name of having my attention focused elsewhere, regardless of how noble the cause. 

All of those things and so many more raced through my mind in a matter of moments while sitting on that shoreline.  The flashback of the most beautiful story I’ve ever been a part of was gently interrupted when my wife got my attention with, “There is a group of dolphins over there.”  And just like that, it was back to the present.  I just took a deep breath of the salty air, and riding on my exhale were the words to my wife, “I don’t think they know how fast those days are going to go by.”

I guess in reality, this is probably true for all of us in every season of life.  We really do not know how fast these days are going by - at the risk of sounding like a crotchety old man - the days seem to go by a little faster every day.  But as I’ve reflected on this the last few weeks since we returned home from our vacation, we really shouldn’t be surprised, should we?  Proverbs 39:4-5 tells us, “LORD, remind me how brief my time on earth will be.  Remind me that my days are numbered - how fleeting my life is.  You have made my life no longer than the width of my hand.  My entire lifetime is just a moment to you; at best, each of us is but a breath.” 

There were countless moments in life watching my kids grow up, where the fragility of the moment and the fleeting nature of those moments were as they came and went.  Even now in the the mornings when I’m facing the man in the mirror, the constant addition of white in my beard, the wrinkles on the face looking back at me, and the time it takes for these old bones to limber up enough to allow me to pursue production in the gift of another day, it reminds me just how quickly we have gotten here.  It has forced me to wrestle with the never-ending tension that exists between the beautiful stories of what has gotten us here and the unknown mysteries of the days to come.  The recent tug-of-war of those thoughts brought me to yet another realization: maybe I don’t know how quickly THESE days will go by.

It’s impossible to deny that this tension will always be there.  Equally, we know our days are indeed numbered and we have very little to no control over so many aspects of our lives.  But in the waning moments of the summer vacation that will forever landmark the moment on our timeline colored by significant change, I’ve been inspired to make choices a little differently.  I have chosen to be proud rather than to be sad that Kaleb is off to college, pursuing college basketball and dreams of becoming a physical therapist.  I have chosen to be optimistic and supportive of my daughter's dreams of being a pediatrician someday.  In the pursuits of what I believe is God’s calling on my life in the realm of 3 Cord Crossing, I’m choosing to do things a bit differently and even take what some would perceive as risks.  Even in some of my day-to-day choices that we are all faced with, I’m making those choices a bit differently.   We truly do not have any clue just how fast this beautiful gift we call life will go by.  So I have chosen to make the most out of the moments - no matter how quickly they pass.  My prayer truly is that God will remind me that my days are truly numbered, and what we choose to do with them matters.