Heir-Raising Tales: Oh, The Places You'll Go...

See that tiny little speck near the top of the rock wall - the one clinging precariously to a one-inch ledge far off the ground? That would be my little boy who used to cry if his mama was out of sight for more than two seconds when he was a baby.

Mama's little boy no more, he insisted that for his birthday we take him to a rock wall now that he was officially old enough to climb it.

And he climbed it, again, and again, and again.

While the rest of us had to take breaks between climbs to let our arms stop shaking, Caleb didn't seem to need breaks at all. He was a little climbing machine.

I made it about halfway up the wall and then happened to glance down at the floor. Holy cow! How did it get so far down there?! And WHAT in the world am I doing up here?

As I sat there frozen by fear, afraid to go higher or trust my rope to take me down, my five-year-old scrambled right past me to the very top without thinking twice about it.

Later, I ran around the track with my daughter, who passed me easily.

I know it's the way of things. Our kids are supposed to get stronger and surpass us. I guess I just sort of thought I had a few more years before that happened. I mean, Caleb's only five.

The truth is, I have never been even half as athletic as I would like to be - maybe that's why there is something satisfying about seeing my kids go farther than me.

I think it's a picture of how life is (or supposed to be). In watching my kids reach physical heights that surprise (and terrify) me, I'm reminded that our kids are created for great things - kingdom things - and they are meant to reach farther than we will ever be able to and see things we only dream about.

Even my two-year-old, who happens to be very short for his age, recently regarded the tricycle passed down to him with disdain.

He shot us a look that clearly seemed to say: "Don't you know, I was made for bigger things!"

And with that, he climbed onto the big-boy bike and rode away.