So we left our oldest child Jack at Azusa Pacific last Sunday in Los Angeles...
and flew home to Idaho.
He is officially in college. Thousands of miles away.
(It's only hundreds of miles but it feels like millions...so I went with thousands.)
Jack is living with strangers. Eating cafeteria food. Talking to people I have never met.
He has been gone for 5 days.
5 days.
It seems so weird.
My whole mothering life...the past 18 years...
the world has impressed upon me the importance of NOT LEAVING MY CHILD.
Don't leave him in the grocery store or they will call CPS.
Don't leave him late at school or you will pay a late fee.
Don't leave him at the library. (Ok. Maybe leave him at the library. It'll grow his brains.)
Definitely don't leave him in dark places late at night. There are murderers out there. Somewhere.
I took all those things to heart. Especially "the dark places late at night" one.
I have watched way too many Forensic Files episodes.
It was and is my job, as mom, to keep that kid close.
Let him know he is held and loved.
Let him know that he is protected and safe.
Let him know that whenever he calls, I am RIGHT THERE.
Then last Sunday...the world changed its mind.
It said, "Okay, LEAVE YOUR CHLD RIGHT NOW.
(And if you don't leave him...you are a clingy weirdo.)
This is cruel and unusual punishment, folks.
Does the world think this mom's heart can make a monumental shift like that
over a Welcome Weekend at college? Think again.
I get it. Jack is a young man.
He is ready to fly.
He needs to spread his wings without mama bird hovering over him.
But, you guys, ALL I KNOW HOW TO DO IS HOVER.
I am a WORLD CLASS hover-er.
My heart, my life, my schedule...has been tethered to Jack's for almost two decades.
We have been doing life in tandem since I first stared into his wide bright infant eyes.
And now I don't even know what snacks he is eating.
Do I sound like a stalker? Don't answer that.
So I am working on letting that love-worn tether fall...
the one that held me so close to the ins and outs of Jack's days.
Because...he has outgrown it.
I am slipping out from under that close halter of young motherhood so that Jack can soar.
It feels a whole lot like grief.
An unravelling of what once was.
Our second son, Will, was talking to me in the car the other day.
He mentioned something about his school and tears sprang to my eyes.
My voice caught in my throat when I tried to answer him.
He looked at me, shocked. "Mom, are you crying?"
"I miss Jack."
"Mom, you can't just start crying out of nowhere. We weren't even talking about Jack.
We were talking about school. You have to give people some warning."
I told him very serioulsy, "I hope you know that you are never leaving for college."
Will just shook his head and patted my knee. "Oh, Mom."
I know that Will is already planning his escape. But I am choosing to live in denial.
This whole thing about growing little people up and then flinging them out into the world...
far away from you...it's super dumb.
It felt completely normal when I was the child taking flight all those long years ago.
I ran with great joy towards my college years.
But as the parent? If feels like someone (the college president?) is saying,
"Let me just rip out your heart right out. Okay. Now go back to Idaho."
Leaving your people is the worst. Because you like them so much.
I know in the depths of my soul that this is just the first of many leavings.
The first of many changes and frequent adjustments.
But one thing that will not change...is how much I love Jack.
My friend, Marie France, says that I am still his mom. I can love him just as much as ever...
my job description has just changed.
The unravelling of what once was...yields the knitting together of what will be.
New ways of staying connected. New joy. New challenges. New hope.
I know that I will be fine. (even with bouts of surprise crying)
Jack, with all the shifting and growing and changing, will be more than fine.
(Regardless of the fact that I am no longer privy to his snack choices.)
Jack is hemmed in on all sides by the One Who loves him most of all.
It is His job to keep that kid close.
Let him know he is held and loved.
Let him know that he is protected and safe.
Let him know that whenever he calls, He is RIGHT THERE.
There is no one who can hover like He does.
So I am going to let Him.
1 comment:
I know what you are feeling! But I had a harder time the first summer my first-born child didn't come home from college. Be prepared. It happened the summer between the sophomore and junior year. Maybe it was because my child was only a 3-hour drive away that it didn't hit me as hard when we moved him into his residence hall room. But not having him home for summer . . . that was the signal of the end of an era. Hang in there, mom!
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