Speechless and Dumb
My youngest daughter - the one who graduated last May - is getting married in two weeks.
Her plans have been simple. She doesn't clamor for more or much or hardly even a little. We have all had to work at realizing a big day is just around the corner. But we're getting it. We're ramping up the celebration factor. Fancy flowers, matching ties, new dresses. Special music arrangements, sweet treats, gifts and parties.
Do they know? Are they aware that life is changing - permanently? As if it isn't anyway, all around us. But this change, this "forever after" change is quick, big, and lasting.
People remind me, "Well, she's just moving down the street, you know."
Yes, I know. But I want to look them in the eye and remind them that she won't be waking up in my house, stumbling down to find the coffee and memorize scripture around the breakfast table. As evening hovers, she won't be hanging around in her comfy pj's ready to watch a movie with Mom. Her quiet ways will be unfolding in another home, her nurturing and growing ways. And that's good, and that's right. But that's a change, quick and big and lasting.
So pardon me while I sigh not infrequently, if I get misty-eyed when the last Monday morning in my house dawns, and as I stop and stare at her bedroom corner that will soon be emptied of her belongings - and her ways. They will be moving on - taking her with them.
It seems to go this way. And I haven't quite adapted to how quick and big and lasting it all is. It always catches me by surprise and takes my breath away.
Her plans have been simple. She doesn't clamor for more or much or hardly even a little. We have all had to work at realizing a big day is just around the corner. But we're getting it. We're ramping up the celebration factor. Fancy flowers, matching ties, new dresses. Special music arrangements, sweet treats, gifts and parties.
Do they know? Are they aware that life is changing - permanently? As if it isn't anyway, all around us. But this change, this "forever after" change is quick, big, and lasting.
People remind me, "Well, she's just moving down the street, you know."
Yes, I know. But I want to look them in the eye and remind them that she won't be waking up in my house, stumbling down to find the coffee and memorize scripture around the breakfast table. As evening hovers, she won't be hanging around in her comfy pj's ready to watch a movie with Mom. Her quiet ways will be unfolding in another home, her nurturing and growing ways. And that's good, and that's right. But that's a change, quick and big and lasting.
So pardon me while I sigh not infrequently, if I get misty-eyed when the last Monday morning in my house dawns, and as I stop and stare at her bedroom corner that will soon be emptied of her belongings - and her ways. They will be moving on - taking her with them.
It seems to go this way. And I haven't quite adapted to how quick and big and lasting it all is. It always catches me by surprise and takes my breath away.