Dear Michaeli,
As I sit here typing this, tears are streaming softly down my cheeks as I come to terms with yours and Shawn's moving out. It is important that I tell you that it is only by the grace of God that I can handle yours and Shawn's moving. Even having you both thirty minutes away is difficult. Though I have shed many tears over the past year and a half and am shedding a few more right now as I type this, I know that through Christ, I can do anything. Even though it is difficult, I know He affords me the strength to exercise a dignity and courage through this that I wouldn't ordinarily have.
I would be lying however, to tell you that releasing you has been easy. It has without a doubt, been one of the most difficult things that I have ever had to do. Without God's grace I would not have been able to do it. Yes, I miss you. I missed you from the moment you started dating John, the man whom you have determined you want to spend the rest of your life with. It was in the beginning of your relationship that I had to begin working through the whole process of releasing you. I think you can attest to the fact that I didn't handle it very well at times. There were times I thought it would drive me completely insane. I was torn between wanting desperately to hang on to you and yet knowing that it was time to begin letting you go. I was so accustomed to having you home the majority of the time except for occasional youth group activities and spending sporadic time with your friends. Then college started and your time at home grew increasingly scarce between time spent with John and going to college, not to mention the mounds of homework. It was if God planned the whole thing. I am so thankful that there was time to work through it BEFORE you moved out. It was a slow bumpy ride on the four wheeler of life, but some how we managed.
I so didn't want you to move out while we were away on vacation. It bothered me deeply. I wanted you to wait until we got home so I could see you in your room just a few more times and get used to the idea slowly but I knew your mind was made up. You were determined. It was then that I decided the best thing to do was to concede and keep peace.
Michaeli, in this mother's heart, you will always be my "little girl." It will be 20 years this next December that we brought you home from the hospital. I couldn't have been happier. I finally had the son and daughter I so desperately wanted. I had picked out two frilly little dresses to bring you home in. I couldn't decide between the pink frilly one that was a wee bit too big with your small birth weight or the lacy lavender one with tiny pink flowers on the bodice and the accordion style pleating. I finally settled on the lavender one. Dad and I were ecstatic to take you home. Oh the euphoria we were feeling when we left the hospital that day! We were on cloud nine. We literally floated out of the hospital room and down the corridor to the waiting area by the front door where Dad left us to go get our shiny silver Mazda and zipped around in front of the revolving doors at the hospital exit. We couldn't wait to get you home to join your three-year-old brother Shawn who was at a sitters so we could all adjust to having a new baby in our home. It was a joyous occasion.
When you left the house tonight, the realization hit me that Dad and I raised you kids to be independent. We knew that our goal was to produce healthy young adults that would one day move out on their own and live healthy, productive lives and become upright Christian citizens that we would be proud of. Individuals that would make good choices throughout their lives but that would be open to learning from even the bad ones and their mistakes.
Pondering that took me back to how you exhibited a type of independence even as a baby. You were not a shoulder baby. I longed for you to be a cuddler, but you were independent from the start. From about three months on you always had to see what was going on in our world. You insisted on being held facing outward so you could see every detail. If I tried to hold you otherwise, you would turn your head and strain to see behind you. Isn't it ironic that of the three kids, you were always the one that contently and peacefully slept in your own room and bed night after night? I don't remember you ever asking to sleep with us. You were rarely frightened by noises or the ‘boogie man.’ Yet on numerous occasions we found the boys at the foot of our bed camped out because they "got scared in the night" having heard a noise. While the boys were camped out, you lay peacefully in your bed oblivious to it all. I am not surprised that you would be the first to make a move towards moving out.
So my darling, yes, a thousand times yes, I miss you. I will always miss you, but there's an old saying that Dad and I use to use during our Navy separations: "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." There's something about parting that makes us miss those that we are close to and endears us to them even more. I have an idea our relationship will only flourish because of it. When you finally take the courageous and bold step and move away as you have, eventually the realization of all you had comings flooding back to you. You realize that you were well provided for and taken care of all those years of your life. Appreciation and thankfulness takes on a whole new meaning. As you look back upon your life you realize you didn't have much to concern yourself with back then. There were no bills and no groceries to buy. You didn't have to worry about insurance and going to the doctor and dentist were a part of your normal routine. You always had food on the table and clothes on your back, even if they weren't the name brands you wanted or the Kool-Aid that I would never let you kids drink because I didn't want the extra dental bills or red stains on the carpet or furniture.
Yes, it is different now. Boring? Well, to be honest, that for the most part has not found its way into my vocabulary. I haven't been bored since I was a teenager with minuscule responsibilities. There's ALWAYS something to do. We do miss all of you guys horribly. I would be lying to say we don't. We look forward to Chad moving back home when you and John get married, but for now we are glad that he is living with you. It brings us security and comfort to know you are not alone thirty minutes away from us in your condo.
I want you to understand honey, that parents will always be concerned for their kid's welfare, no matter how old. That's why I mentioned I would rather not have you come home late at night given the difference in your new surroundings. I know I don't or can't control that, but I can't help but be concerned. Why? Because I love you and I am concerned for your safety. I want you to operate in wisdom. As your parent, I see through the eyes of 49 years of wisdom and experience, not the carefree eyes of a 20-year-old that is more concerned with the here and the now than the big picture. It's one of those things that you won't understand until that day when you settle down and have a family of your own. Maternal instincts take over and you will become protective of the children that God places in your care right up into their adult years and even after. I don't think parents ever cease to care about their kid's welfare. It's just part of being a good parent.
The only reason I have been able to make this transition and do well at it is because of the relationship I have with the Lord. Over the years I have weathered the storm of numerous separations. I had to endure the separation from my parents when Dad and I first got married and he took me 36 hours away from the Midwest to Southern California, after growing up in a small
Nebraska town of 20,000 and living a sheltered life. Then, on top of that, I had to endure the separation when Dad was gone and out to sea over an 18 year span in the U.S. Navy after we married in 1978. Being over a thousand miles away in the large metropolis of San Diego left me with deep feelings of loneliness and at times fearful. The eventual death of my grandmother to colon cancer just a few months before you were born was followed by my Dad's death to lung cancer in 1992. Five years after that, we lost my mother and your grandmother, tragically to suicide. Through those 3 deaths I had to endure separations from the very individuals and loved ones that had helped to mold and shape my life. I still miss my mom and dad from time to time and occasionally even my grandmother. Each of these separations actually strengthened me and served to be the fastidious and intricate preparation that was necessary for this day.
So, there you have it, my daughter. Coming to terms with all of this took going to bed and tossing and turning until I felt compelled to get up and bare my soul in this letter.
Know that I love you. I will always love you. I am also proud of you for taking the bold and courageous step into your future. Now that you and John are married, your cycle of life together has begun.
You will know separation as I have. Eventually you will know life and death, heartache, happiness and sadness. It is all a part of life. Keep God close by your side, for only He can steer you through the bumps and curves in the road, the mountain passes and the valleys. He will give you the strength to triumph through it all and to one day endure the separations that you too will have to endure. With His boldness and courage you will set your face like a flint to the wind to bare the seemingly insurmountable forces that will seek to destroy but won’t succeed because you are a Child of the King.
Love always, Mom
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