What it’s like

I love that Grace wrote a “poem” in Luke’s journal. And I love that he used the word “chicanery” in his apology. I love the way my children have grown into interesting people with beautiful values, unfettered imaginations, and wonderfully weird personalities. I love these things like I love the feeling that washes over me as I sit beside a swollen mountain stream, watching the water slip and slide around boulders . . . playful water, laughing at every obstacle, because it knows it possesses a power much stronger than any mere rock. The water will win. It always wins. And as I sit on the bank of the stream, I know the icy current that just kissed my toes moments ago is now passing under tree branches, dipping and dodging its way downstream, meeting new challenges with hilarious joy.

Moments are like water. If they stagnate, they grow foul and die. So I try (but fail) to take it all in . . . the moments I’m given with the people I love. I try to etch them in my mind, but they just laugh and swirl their way beyond my grasp, leaving an ache with a promise. To cling to this moment is to miss what’s yet to come.

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Grace leaves tomorrow. Study abroad in Barcelona for six weeks. Then two and half weeks of travel in Europe. She’s not sure where she’ll go or where she’ll stay–if she’ll have companions or travel alone. She’s a little nervous, but mostly she’s excited. I’m excited for her, too. And I’m also amazed. This beautiful, young woman–21 years old, confident, intelligent, funny–this beloved treasure who is more precious to me than life itself . . . when did she grow up? Wasn’t it yesterday I dipped my toe in the stream of motherhood for the second time and gazed into the innocent eyes of my only daughter?

So many yesterdays ago. I only pray there will be many more yesterdays to come. Laughing, hilarious yesterdays to love and let go dancing on their way as long as the stream remains.

Love, EZ