From My Perch — Grandparents’ Day
From my perch today, I had a view that not everyone in the room could fully see.
Grandparents Day at State Line Christian School is always special. The auditorium was full — completely full — extra chairs set up full. There was a quiet kind of anticipation in the air as grandparents found their seats, looking for familiar faces, waiting to see their grandchildren take part.
And then it began.
The kindergartners started us off, and from there the program moved steadily upward — elementary classes presenting, one after another, followed by the junior high choir, the varsity band, and finally the senior high choir. Each group added its own piece, its own voice, its own contribution. By the end, you could feel the weight of it — not just a program, but something that had been built over time.
It was impressive. But it was more than that.
From where I stood, I wasn’t just seeing a program. I was seeing generations.
I saw grandparents sitting in that room who used to sit in classrooms themselves — as students when I was in school. Now they were back, not as students, not even as parents, but as grandparents. Watching the next generation take their place.
I saw families whose children all came through State Line — graduated, moved on, and are now bringing their own children back through the same hallways. There’s a continuity there that you can’t manufacture. It’s something God builds over time.
I saw friends from multiple generations, all in the same room. That doesn’t happen everywhere. That’s not normal in most places. But it is here.
And after the program, as grandparents made their way to classrooms, visiting, talking, laughing, it felt less like an event and more like a family reunion.
That’s the only way I know to describe it.
And there was something else I couldn’t help but think about.
Many of the grandparents in that room are not just attending — they’re investing. In more ways than one. It’s not unusual for them to be helping carry the financial load of their grandchildren’s education. They believe in what’s happening here enough to be part of it, to sacrifice for it, to make sure the next generation has the same opportunity their children had.
That says something.
But as I stood there, watching it all unfold, my mind went somewhere else.
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Back to 1973.
Back to the early days of the school.
My dad had a vision when he started our school. At that time, it was small — just kindergarten and some lower elementary classes. My mom was one of the original teachers, working in those early foundational years. There weren’t packed auditoriums then. There weren’t full programs stretching from kindergarten through high school.
There was just a vision.
And a lot of work.
Trying to secure teachers. Trying to build a curriculum. Trying to make sure there was something solid being put in place — not just for that moment, but for the future.
I don’t know how much of this he could see at the time.
I have no doubt he had faith that God would do something. But I don’t know that he could have pictured days like today in all their detail. Rows of grandparents. Generations connected. A full program of students from kindergarten through senior high. The sound of a varsity choir filling an auditorium.
I don’t know that he saw all of that specifically.
But I saw it today.
And as both pastor and superintendent, I had the privilege of standing there and taking it in — knowing how much he would have loved it. Knowing what it would have meant to him to see not just that the school continued, but that it flourished… and that families stayed connected to it across generations.
Some things you build, and you never fully see what they become.
But every now and then, God lets you stand in a moment where you can see the fruit of something that was planted long before.
Today felt like one of those moments.
From my perch, I didn’t just see a program.
I saw faithfulness … multiplied across generations.
