Since they were in highchairs, I have always encouraged my children to fly. Not with wings, but to reach for their own stars and to settle in their place in the world.
When my first child went to college two hours away, I couldn’t see how to drive home for the tears. I had to pull off the road and settle down. I needed a mop.
What was I thinking by telling them to fly away and soar? How was I going to navigate the computer stuff without my oldest? A local community college would have been just fine! But, alas, she stayed two hours away for four years and then, and of all things, went to graduate school!
I was better prepared for the middle child when she left for college. I cried, but I kept driving and left the mop in the back seat. She flew everywhere searching for her star, but when she landed at UGA, she forgot her home address. One time, I made up the lame excuse that I was down with malaria. “Mom, we don’t have malaria around here!”
I hate when kids get too old to know when you are fibbing!
The third child received a quick wave and very few tears, as I prayed earnestly that he could remain in school. If he didn’t have class in the Frat house, attending one might be optional.
In the end, everyone made it through the first round of goodbyes, but a few tears were shed when I realized that the flight they took was one-way. From now on, there would only be visits after college. During their visits, I prepared their favorite foods and cherished the moments of treating them as if they were still sitting in highchairs.
Eventually, they discovered their stars were aligned over places called Seattle, Denver, and Ft. Lauderdale! After they settled in those distant locations – too far away for my liking – I put my foot down. “Do not move too far from an airport, understand!”
They laughed a bit, but Mama wasn’t smiling. I meant it.
The oldest one, who was living in Seattle, moved back to the South several years ago. She lives six hours away, so we see each other more often. She adored Seattle, but Mama loved her back in the Southland. When she visits, I still have questions about that computer.
The Ft Lauderdale girl moved to St. Petersburg two years ago. Thank goodness she didn’t choose the one in Russia, but just juggled her stars in sunny Florida.
My son is based in Denver, but he travels around the world to save endangered animals in their natural habitats. I often tell him, “Son, we have deer, dogs, and stray cats right here at home. You know?”
What was I thinking, encouraging them to be independent? Instead, I should have handed them a contract that specified they couldn’t live more than 50 miles from their Mama! By the way, if you’re kids are still in highchairs, write the contract today.
Last week, the oldest child called, “Mom, I was offered a great job with T-Mobile.”
“That’s wonderful, honey, but will you need to relocate?”
“Mom, their headquarters are in Seattle. So, yes.”
As she was explaining the job, I was asking God, “What did I do to you today for you to pull this off?”
But instead, I found my lips saying, “That is fantastic news! I know it will be difficult for you to leave North Carolina, but God takes you where He wants you to fulfill your purpose and thrive.”
I’m not so smart.
Many of my friends’ children live around the corner or a short drive away. How cool is that? They must have tied them to the highchair, made them sign a legal document, and told them they could only soar to the stars over Georgia.
One day, God reminded me that my children belong to Him. They are on loan for a while, and it is my responsibility to help them navigate their place in the world, no matter where they call home.
Throughout every stage of our lives, we prepare our children for a future without us. It’s not comfortable, and sometimes we need a mop to clean up the tears, but the love we feel makes it all worthwhile.
I imagine visiting my oldest on a corner back in Seattle on a fabulous day and laughing at the rain. My second child is thriving in Florida and catching fish in the sun. Thankfully, those endangered animals have a friend in my Denver son.
One Christmas, the three gave me a piece of art that says:
Our Mom forever
Never Apart
Maybe in distance, but never at heart.
It stays near my desk.
