It's kind of incredible, really -- that such huge transitions don't feel more seismic when they're happening. It all seems sort of simple: she packed up her stuff, loaded up 3 cars worth, we made a couple of runs, carried things up a few stairs, took her out to dinner... and that's it. After 24 years, the last 10 months living with us, she's off into the world, ready to support herself.
And as I sit here, staring at this picture of her playing with a neighbor's cat so long ago (a cat who looks remarkably like Alex, the cat she and I love so much now), I find myself haunted by a steady procession of images from her childhood...
There was a lovely bit in the Prayers of the People yesterday about caring for our children; knowing when to love and when to let go; when to hold them safe and when to release them into the world. There's such an interesting tension there, and such a mix of feelings -- and so much love. So much joy. And I'm sure it's only an echo of how God feels watching us...
Which took me immediately to this ancient Doobie Brothers song, recorded before she was even born (ignore the comments, please):
3 comments:
Diane ... may the space in your house and your heart fill with new wonders. On the cruise, I wrote and was struck over and over about how much of my journey began in that Miksang workshop where I met a new friend and my empty cup began to refill itself. Many hugs.
I know so well how you feel, how I lost it the day after my only graduated from NYU, how much I miss the kind of talks he and I have when he's here for a visit. Hugs.
Diane... I am facing that same moment this May with both my daughters moving out and into new lives away. Even though they were both away last year, this past year with them home has been such a gift -- I treasure the gift and will, let them go with peaceful heart knowing they are amazing young women. But dang.... it's hard!
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