It WAS Hard to see her go

I thought it wouldn't be hard this time. I did it last May. I did it all. All of it, the crying, the sadness, the emptiness. The things left behind spoke of her absence. Loud. It was hard then but,I knew she will be back at the end of July. Now I don't know when the house will be filled with her joy, her presence.

It was hard to see her go.

It doesn't matter how much I tell myself:

-you will text (btw, I retract everything I said about texting)

-you will Skype (oh the blessedness of technology!)

-she will visit for holidays (would her work schedule permit her?)

-all mothers go through this (well, I am not all mothers)

-your mother went through that (yeah, but I was 25, not 18)

-it is the American way (well, I am not American)

It doesn't matter, it was still hard to see her go.

Part of me felt as it was not going to happen. When she got back, she fell right into our routine. She filled her space and our lives like always. It felt as if she had not gone at all. Maybe I dreamt it? My whole Dominican self hoped, maybe it is a dream.

But it wasn't a dream... This morning it was time to go. My whole Dominican self cried (inside) not yet! it is too soon! she is too young! this is not supposed to happen until you get married! But it did. This morning. In her new car.

With her dad.

It doesn't matter how much I tell myself

- she is with people we love and trust.

- she is doing what she feels/discerned the Lord is calling her too.

Both these things are a great comfort but, it was still hard to see her go.

All our parenting career points to this moment. This is what we have prepared her for. Her quiver is full, or is it? We did our part, or did we? Nagging thoughts fill my mind: did we prepare her well?

Here again is a lesson in trust.Trust that we did our best, that we did it adequately, that we taught her the skills to supply what we did not teach; and most of all, that the Lord will supply what we might have lacked.

It was hard to see her go but, she was ready. She has been a caterpillar for a while and now she is ready to be a butterfly: beautiful, graceful, and free. She takes with her part of us, part of me.

Now, I look at my two boys left at home and I hug them a little tighter, look into their eyes a little more frequently, pay attention a little closer, savor the moments more earnestly. Some time, sooner that my mother's heart is ready for, it would be time to see them go. And it will be hard.