My brother-in-law Steve accused me recently of sending my children off on adventures just so I'll have stuff to blog or write articles about.
They come up with this stuff all on their own, believe me.
Friday the children didn't have school so Emily and Steven decided they want to walk to the library in Harrisburg. It's about 4 miles, but they love to walk, so I sent them off with "the usual litany of cautions" (Jeremy's dad in Zits). "Here, take the cell phone." "Stay together." "Don't go anywhere with strangers."
But I didn't think to say anything about dogs, and a huge ferocious one came charging out at them from someone's yard just as they were leaving Harrisburg. It rushed up right behind Emily and barked viciously. Emily and Steven both held still, with their hands to their chests like the safety films say, praying their little hearts out, and then Scott the Harrisburg fire chief came along in the paddy wagon and rescued them and brought them home.
Actually, Scott passed them on the way back from helping someone who had locked his keys in his car, and then he thought that something didn't look right back there with those kids and that dog, and turned around to come back and help them.
So I was very happy to have them home safe and sound, and I will have a different perspective on my misfortune the next time I lock my keys in the car.
And now I am trying not-very-successfully to prepare myself for Amy's big adventure. God willing, she flies to the United Arab Emirates on Wednesday to be a governess to an American family for 5 months. I have a deep sense of rightness about this, but there is still a ball of lead in my heart that gets heavier each day.
My sis-in-law Bonnie offered to come over and play the CD that Byran played when he left, a mournful Celtic-sounding song of a mother longing for her children..."Lord, I miss my children; they are all so far away." I love the song but I said, Please, no. I'll cry enough as it is.
Does it have to be this hard? I guess this is the price of loving her as much as I do and of raising her to be an arrow to send forth. But it hurts, hurts, hurts.
Quote of the Day:
"Mom! Some of the Ducks wear size 19 shoes!"
--Ben, who considers this an appropriate early-morning greeting to his half-asleep mom on game day
Dorcas, I know what you mean about our children leaving the nest. All three of ours have fledged from this nest and the place is so quiet. I do not know where I heard or read this, but sometimes at night when all is at its quietest, you can almost hear the laughter in the walls.
ReplyDeleteThey all now have homes and spouses of their own and one has 2 little ones and a second has one on the way. That two are only 6 hrs away makes it some what tolerable, but not seeing them for months hurts too.
The world is big and Amy will be so far away from you, except in your heart, but God is bigger and He will be close by her all the time. May God be with you and Amy as the two of you cope with her big adventure.
Hey Dorcas,
ReplyDeleteDon't worry, the rest of us will also miss Amy greatly, if that's any consolation.
The Baritone
Dorcas, there are days I thank my God that I am a few steps behind you in raising my children, and this is one of them. However, if you need a shoulder to cry on, or just someone to listen and pass the Kleenex, I am as close as my cell phone. And my prayers arise for you, especially on Wed!
ReplyDeletePAULINE
What a Mom! I hope to be able to send my children out someday too. Its good to know others are actually willing to let go.Even when it hurts.
ReplyDeleteTo all of you, thanks, more than I can say. God keeps sending me people who say just the words I need right then.
ReplyDelete