Today was Elizabeth’s last Sunday at Lifepointe before going to college. A year ago (when there were 52), I was working hard not to count down the number of Sundays before college. Now, there is no denying that there are “zero.”
I’ve been away the past week, chaperoning Nick’s Band Camp in the mountains. If you know me, even a little bit, you know that being with that group of students and parents is one of my favorite weeks of the year. Watching the student leaders take ownership of their roles, seeing this year’s marching show take shape, hearing the music in the open air, and enjoying mountain views and the company of great people the entire time – it is almost too much! Even if I didn’t have a child there, I would want to go. But being able to observe Nick as he works hard on the marching field, plays hard on the frisbee field and laughs hard with his buds – it’s pure joy for me.
Band camp made it easier to ignore the countdown, except for a few teary moments when I entertained the reality that Elizabeth was not there with Nick, as she was last year. But hey, I’m hoping all these “slow leaks” will make a “major dam break” less likely.
Back to this morning – I knew that Donnie and Cinda had planned a going away breakfast for her. I totally knew. I just hadn’t thought about how emotional it would feel – the public acknowledgement that my private countdown was up. I am not often surprised by my emotions – I typically make preparations for them in advance – like houseguests. So, when I saw Cinda walking in, loaded with pastries and platters, I thought, “Oh, crap,” and the tears starting pooling up. I decided to just let them fall, instead of trying to hold them back. (Maybe this would minimize my “cry face?” – it didn’t work, as a teenaged friend asked me later if I was sick.) The setup team gathered and sent her off in style, showering her with gifts and affection – there were even beautifully decorated chocolate-dipped strawberries. It was lovely, and I was flooded with gratitude that she has such a great community of friends to love her.
God assured me that she will find another family of believers to welcome her in Boone. As we were setting up, my eyes caught Elizabeth at the other end of the hall, as she was half-carrying/half-dragging a rolled area rug to the preschool room. She was not laboring with it, so I just watched, taking in the sweet sight of her. Then I saw Tracy, a gentle giant of a man, come alongside my daughter and relieve her of her burden. I will not soon forget the image, or the “voice” of God telling me, “See, I know what she needs, and I will put people within arm’s reach – she will not carry her burdens alone.”
Thank you, Father. Thanks for all of it.
Kim Perry Writes 
My son left for Boone 10 years ago. I can still see him sitting in his car. I didn’t think he’d ever pull out of the driveway. And then he rolled down the window and looked back.
sweet stuff. I love both of you girls.