Cole Moves to College

There is this somewhat embarrassing story that circulates my family from time to time unveiling my now tapered neurosis in which I frantically start interrogating Mrs. Donahue, my purple and plum polyester dressed 3rd grade teacher, upon discovering what the SAT was. Yes, the college entrance exam SAT. Rumor has it that I cornered her and had her explain over and over again what this test was and reassure me that I would pass this exam 8 years later...when I was 16. Oh, if I only maintained that level of reverence for the SAT when I was 16. I digress.

You see that story reveals how I was born with an uncanny ability, gift or curse, to emotionally process life's seasons before they happen. It is probably rooted in the survivalist desire I have to maintain a sense of control and stability. Then one day I find myself surprised in all senses of the word, fresh on top of Sled Hill with 4 children, a husband and a dog in the sun-lit snow of January in Michigan, and, by force, realize that the surprises in life are what keep it full of whimsy. And what does one want to saturate their unwritten autobiography with if not whimsy?

Last Sunday I drove my first born to Troy to watch him blend into a sea of over-sugared, excited to be 6-days-set-free from their parents, emerging teens and sent him on a bus to Detroit. Yes, America's safest capital Detroit. Cole would help serve with one of the 4 teams from our Woodside Bible Church. I was proud of him for growing in personal and social confidence, and growing in a desire to serve the underprivileged in the name of the Lord, so I really didn't feel sentimental or sad at all.

I woke up in the middle of that first night. Was he OK? How was he sleeping? Was his belly alright on a non gluten free diet for the week? Was he lonely?
So I just did the only thing I could do. I prayed.

The following days I felt this nagging tug on my heart when I thought about Cole, when I felt his absence. And I felt his absence. The absence of the sense of security he brings. His quiet and brief  'I love you Moms' sprinkled throughout my day. I missed his vocabulary and unending wealth of interesting stories and facts. His humor wasn't there at the dinner table. As the days wore on, so did this discomforting feeling I had in the deeper chambers of my heart.

Is this what I am laying my life down for? Is this how it is going to all go down? To love, sacrifice, bond with and serve my little genetic multiplications, only to eat dinner with decreasing spots at the table because they have all but up-and-gone to live out their own stories? Frankly, yes. Yes, that is exactly how this all rolls out.

This week I felt the first splashes of loss that will inevitably come uninvited to greet me. I cannot sugar coat this. You have a baby, you blink, and they grow up and leave. Grace will be there in that day, as it always comes right on time; never early. However, this week has given me a fresh perspective. A Mom I will be forever, but a roommate with my children, but for a few short seasons. May I love them fully, and experience being their mother without regret, and full of whimsy.
I love you Cole Batey.
You are my great honor.

 

 

 

Dedicated to Hope Buhler as she watches Alexis get married tomorrow. Hope, you are such a light and example to me. May joy be yours in this transition.