Thoughts on a Daughter Leaving Home

I wrote this six years ago as our daughter was preparing to leave for George Mason University. I pray you will be blessed by my sharing.

Desperation, Deliverance and other words that start with “D”

“Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge. Selah” (Psalm 62:8 NIV)

Desperation. Our oldest child, our only daughter, my friend, my sister, my heart will be leaving for college soon. It occurred to me in the wee hours of this morning that our family will be forever diminished by her absence. We have watched her foray out for a day trip here and there – a few hours at the beach; a few days keeping a house-sitting friend company – but never before have we had to prepare for her long term and ultimately permanent absence. Oh, she’ll be home for an occasional weekend. She’ll come home for winter break. But she won’t really be coming home. She’ll be coming to the place that used to be her life. Our home will soon become the place she visits while she’s waiting for the rest of her life.

And I am desperate. Desperate to tell her everything she will need to know to live without us. Desperate to keep her from the pain and sadness that is inevitably intermingled with success and joy from living in the world. Desperate to somehow impart the absolute and boundless love, admiration, pride and respect we have for her not only as our daughter, but as a fellow human being on this earth. Our loss as a nuclear family is the world’s gain—a strong, beautiful, brilliant and good member of the world community has sprung forth! And I am desperately grieving her impending departure.

I know that this kind of desperation is sinful. It demonstrates my lack of trust that God will enfold her with his love and protection. It proves that while I know He will always be with her to help her deal with the disappointments as well as the victories, I lack the will to allow Him alone to play that role. It shows my lack of confidence in myself and the job I did as a parent, mother, friend to my precious daughter. It is a desperation born of fear.

How can I reconcile this face of desperation with my belief that God is a good and loving God? How do I proceed from this point on, confident that God will continue to be, not only in the margins but at the core of my daughter’s life – and mine! My prayers for her safety and care continue to be lifted on high. My grief is over losing a part of me and my life that has been not only the margins, but the core. She will thrive. She will fall down. She will love and live and grow into the extraordinary human being that only God can envision. My hesitancy is only because I love her so much.

Perhaps sin is too strong a word? But my lack of confidence is not in her. Or in God. Not really. It is in the world. My desperation reminds me how absolutely and completely we must all rely on God to get us through the transitions in our lives. He is at the heart of every milestone, joyous or sad. He is the heart of every day of our lives.

My desperation reveals a stumbling block in my faith life. But mostly, it reveals how desperately I seek the face of God. How I long to know the answers to the burning questions I pose to Him every day in my prayers. Desperate to know my child will grow into the woman He has planned for her to become. Desperate to believe that I have done the best I could to help her on that journey.

And while I am certain it is not enough—has never been enough—I trust that God was there to fill in the margins when I was not wise enough or strong enough to do what needed to be done.

Post Script: 6 years later, our daughter is now 24 years old and a graduate of George Mason University. She has been happily married for 2 years to a wonderful young man we instantly considered our son.While we wish she and husband lived here in town, we're thrilled they are a mere 1.5 hrs away and we see them often.

July 4th, Easter Baskets and Christmas Morning

I remember when I was about 9 or 10. My grandmother (paternal) used to make us all matching outfits for various holidays. I assume this memory is of July 4th, because we lived in Massachusetts that year and it didn't even get really warm until about July (Memorial Day was probably still a bit chilly).

I don't know why I remember this year in particular but my three younger sisters and I all wore blue and white striped seersucker jumpers (there was some red rick-rack, I think) and my brother had some type of little outfit to match. I have a copy of a picture somewhere of all of us in those outfits. I remember thinking I looked so pretty! I thought we all looked so great! The little outfits were sewn with love and care. They represented my grandmother's love to me.

Some of my favorite photos from my childhood are those where we all "went together." I don't know how my mom did it, but more often than not, we looked clean, combed and dressed impeccably in coordinating, matching, or "go together" clothes -- no small feat for a mom with for four young girls and baby boy.

I think of those outfits every year on July 4th. I remember so much about that house and the wonderful basement where my sisters and I played for hours! I remember the room my dad built from the ground up so he would have office space to work in. I didn't realize at the time that all parents aren't that intentional and devoted to their children. They aren't all handy and able to make do and often even "make something wonderful out of nothing."

My parents did that for us. They set the bar pretty high! They were far from perfect. But I like to think I received from them the best of both of them. All the things in me that are creative, handy, resourceful, passionate and compassionate came from them. I know July 4th is an odd time to honor one's parents. But fireworks, trick or treating, Easter baskets and Christmas mornings are all tied up together in my mind and my heart, especially the older I get.

So I am blessed to have had parents who God hand-picked for me. He brought them together so that I and my sisters and brother would have exactly the skills, talents, gifts and graces God planned for us to have. Then he gave us their presence and their love so that as we grew up we would become the best of each of them and the best of them as a couple.

There were some things in my childhood that I didn't enjoy. But as I've grown in my faith and in my ardent desire to surrender more and more of my life to Christ, those memories fade. As I learn about forgiveness - of others and especially of myself - I am able to "forget" the pain and unpleasantness, though not the lesson.

The other night I heard Dr. Wayne Dyer make a statement that strikes me as so profound I can't stop thinking about it. It applies to our childhoods, to our parenting, to our jobs, to every aspect of our lives: "Everything that has happened to you was supposed to happen. How do we know that's true? Because it happened!"

So today as the sun sets on this July 3 I rejoice in everything that has happened in my life and in the memories that bubble to the surface that give me joy and make me wistful and remind me of the legacy God prepared for me long before he made the first star in the sky.