Surreal. That’s what the moment feels like. I’m sitting in the passenger seat. The boy is driving. We are heading to ‘The Couv’ to meet with an advisor to determine his future. I find myself wishing this day hadn’t arrived.
“Are you excited?” I ask him.
The boy, not one to mince words, replies “Yes.”
I know to not overwhelm him with my words. He does not like to drive distracted. He does not speak much and I wonder what goes through his mind.
Is he worried? Is he nervous? Is he scared? Is he concerned that he’s going to make the wrong decision?
Then the doubts begin. Stronger, much stronger.
Have I taught him enough? Have I prepared him for this moment? Is he really ready to move onto the next level of his education?
I try to ignore the feeling in my heart. The one that is going to send me into a fit of tears. The one that is screaming loudly. I’m not ready.
I’m not ready for this time of our lives to be over. I’m not ready to let him go. I’m not ready for my son to leave our nest and begin his life. But I have to be.
Because that’s what a momma must do.
We walk into the building, the boy, the husband and I. The husband looks at me. I don’t have to say a word. He knows.
They hand us paperwork. For the first time I’m not needed. The boy fills out the form himself. I try to not instruct him. When I make a comment he looks at me, “I KNOW.”
I’m trying to not feel unwanted.
The advisor greets us. Her and I connect immediately. We share the same name and her son is the same age. I immediately feel at ease. She and the boy talk. I realize just how confident he is in this decision. When he talks about his choice he is passionate. His face beams.
I know. Know this is the right decision, but I doubt.
We discuss dates. All four of us sit there. Look at one another. We know. This is the right decision.
I want to cry. But I can’t. I can only thank Abba for opening the door.
We make a trip to the shop. The shop with metal and machines and smells that make me gag. I look at his face. He is where he belongs.
The husband and I leave the boy and head home. I weep because I know that this is what Abba has planned. Yet. It hurts…
It hurts to realize that while I was worried about math and laundry and daily life, he was growing up.
Photo Credit: hopecalls.blogspot.com
The little boy who came into this world, ripping me apart, is preparing to leave my world again. I only pray he doesn’t rip me apart.
So we enter a new world. A world of tests and adult decisions. Financial aid and college savings plans. New wardrobe and situations.
I cannot hold onto him tightly, refusing to let him go. I have to let him go. To walk out of our school and into the school that will prepare him. For the day he graduates and he enters the adult world of work.
I have 4 months. 4 months to finalize and prepare. Not him. Myself.
I am trying to remember the words of my dear friend Heidi. The ones she spoke years ago in the homeschool conference. How our children are arrows. Arrows that we must aim for eventual release. I loved the imagery until she spoke the thing that pierced my heart. The thing that keeps me moving forward even when I want to stand my ground.
“There’s going to be tension before you release the arrow. When you release the arrow that tension is going to allow them to fly far, according to the bent of their arrow.” (paraphrase)
I realize, even though my momma heart is screaming, and I want to hold on tight and refuse to acknowledge this moment, the moment is here. He has made his decision. It’s time to let him go and see how far he can fly.