She waves as she pulls away.
It’s Friday afternoon and she’s full of life and plans.
She is navigating friends, classes, work and this thing we call life.
I look at her and she smiles.
I wonder as she pulls away if I will ever see her again.
Will she too never come home?
I think of that with all the kids.
Especially as they drive away.
It flashes before me.
And the gut wrenching desire to hold them all right here with me rears.
I turn to go back into the house.
I don’t want to descend into worry or fear.
But, Oh, how easy it would be.
I take a moment to pray~
To pray as I often have on this parenting journey.
These are not my kids.
They are the Lords.
He gave them to us for a while, to care for and nurture.
Ultimately, though, they are Gods.
I can feel the peace descend.
The unsettled feeling will never leave.
It is always there.
Yet, there is also a greater peace.
It takes effort and much releasing of control.
But it can be found.
As a parent who has lost a child, and endured much loss in a small period of time, I know deep ache.
It is often my constant companion.
I still move a tub from one side of my room to another of my sons clothing because I don’t know what to do with it.
I have containers of cards with the beautiful words of hope from so many,
for the deaths of my mom, my son and then my dad and cancer for my farmer;
All within three years.
I am working hard to enjoy each moment of this life and rest in Gods peace.
I long to do God’s will and serve him with all my being.
I want to find deep joy in the work he has for me to do.
Even when it’s hard.
The Season’s are changing here in Vermont.
A glorious chorus of color.
Deep reds against a back drop of green has created an illusion of a fiery landscape.
Barns nestled in hillsides add to the uniqueness of the back drop.
I rest in the beauty around us.
At some point my daughter will text that she has arrived.
I continue on with my chores for the evening.
My thoughts turn to praise, and I practice the gift of gratitude.
I thank God for each task I do; putting away the glasses, sorting out paper; being grateful for the tiniest of gifts.
With this practice my focus ultimately shifts and peace pervades my being.
We all endure devastating tragedies and mountain top joys.
Recognizing God’s hand in both is a process.
I want it no other way.
A dear young man once preached a sermon and challenged us concerning the Israelites:
“Would you rather be back in Egypt with out God?
Or in the desert with God? “