These moments (my E, a boy named Enrique and Jesus).

Oh my heart, these days of spending time with my beautiful 18 year old daughter this way, are changing so quickly. Last weekend, I knew I needed to wrap my head around planning for her graduation, celebrations, dates and all the necessary business that is bearing down on our family like an oncoming parade. I can feel the music building, the palpable expectation, almost like I do in Disney when I the music builds in one corner of the park and the crowd waits – knowing they too will be pulled into the story. Our family is waiting expectantly, a little angsty, and probably a bit stressed after the build-up to finally arrive, HERE.

I listen some days to way she moves around in her room upstairs, the creak of a loose board in the floor above my head, the comfort of knowing her movements. And then, my breath catches, because I can feel the time slipping and the knowledge that her movements will be away at school in a few short months.

She is oldest, the first to be a senior, the first of our kids to go to college. And as many times as I’ve offered support and care to others in this spot as a therapist, this is the first time myself. It is both a wonder to march toward her independence and one of the scariest thoughts I’ve ever had, if I can be entirely truthful….

I try to practice what I preach, allow for all the feelings and soak in the present moments: yesterday, a few stolen hours between her mounting list of things to get done, a pet-sitting commitment and her part-time job.

We found ourselves driving to a nearby antique/makers paradise filled with vintage and new creative endeavors. We wander, smell every candle we can get our noses near, admire new talents, all the while, chatting about everything and nothing. I tell her stories of growing up with a mom who also is an antique dealer. I feel the feelings of my own childhood as I see the same things that filled my parents house: an old sewing machine, a towering haltery and age-old quilts; tea pots that evoke an instant feeling of calm, memories of my Gram and gratitude for my dear mom with whom I get to have tea often.

As we wander, we pass a beautifully crafted barn wood table. It is set for a beautiful Easter dinner: brightly colored plates, green white and yellow hues all over the table. A huge bowl of lemons adorns the center, ones that look so real I had to look twice. The napkins are set gently on the charger plate with Peter Rabbit rings keeping them in place. We both noticed and loved the whole setting and after pausing to admire it, kept moving to the next booth because we knew we had to get back home. E had to work in a couple hours….

Knock, knock, knock…

We heard the gentle rapping on wood at the same instant and both turned from what we were looking at…

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

The rap on wood became more insistent quickly. As we turned to look, our eyes settled on a smiling young man, standing near the beautiful table. He had a slightly mischievous, yet playful look on his face, big eyes behind blue glasses. He also has Down Syndrome. We both smiled widely because he was charming. We were taking it all in and I could feel my daughter’s pull toward engaging with him. She is a part of LINKS at school, as is our youngest. Both daughters LOVE people, and have uncanny abilities to connect. She recently went on church mission trip and was drawn to people, kids and culture in such lovely ways, almost like she can’t help herself from reaching out, opening her heart and arms.

“You should go…” I whispered to her, knowing she was dying to anyway. She paused, torn between her heart and the “what would I say?”

All of the sudden, his three family members came and sat at that seemingly perfectly set table. They began speaking to the young man in Spanish and he quickly adopted the role of “serving ” his family a meal. I turned back and my daughter was almost to the table herself. I stood back and watched.

“Que hay para cenar?” She asked with the sweetest, most comfortable voice.

They all turned sharply, then the conversation took off. I was bewildered, my Spanish speaking abilities lost in abyss of high school requirements back in the dark ages from where I am now. I stood and watched, though, picked up a few words here and there. What I saw was an unfolding with this sweet family, playing pretend dinner at a table in the middle of a store because their son and brother asked; a family who’d quietly been amongst themselves, opening up to my daughter because she knows their language.

It was stunning. She was playful, asking their names. She introduced me and all I had in my Spanish memory was hola and gracias. They were gracious in my ignorance, playful as they “ate” and a bit in awe of “her beautiful Spanish.” Enrique handed me a lime, I happily “munched,” and after a few minutes we said goodbye and “have a blessed Easter!”

Daughter took my hand because that is what we do. I love that she holds to me for safety and her comfort, at least that is what she tells me.

We made our purchases, waved at Enrique and his entourage and began driving home. (They had been the gift of the afternoon.) I had a hard time speaking out of the wonder of it all. The wonder at how God created my beautiful girl who said, “I wanted to take a picture with them, but thought it would be weird.” The wonder and gratitude to Lord God Almighty who shows us beauty in everything, seasons, colors, cultures and differences. Even smells! We struck up another conversation with a woman who wearing a dynamite perfume and it was just lovely (perfume and conversation!) The wonder of bravery and confidence, connection and care.

I would be remiss if I didn’t say a mammoth gratitude for our school system, our Spanish Immersion program and the many, many, many opportunities that E has had on the the her road to bi-literacy. We are indebted to so many and can’t even find the words. She wouldn’t be on this edge of changing the world without her Jesus, her mentors, teachers and leaders who have taught her so much. I need to also thank our church family who just embraces us, sees her gifts and affirms them. Blessed does not even cover it…

“That was a picture of what I want to do, Mama. The culture, the ease and helping.” Her yearning toward these things feels like the most beautiful ache, the now and not yet. There is a massive lump in my throat as I silently surrender her again, to the Lord, knowing he loves her so much more than I.

These days ARE flying by, but this day reminded me of these days are also flying toward: toward the plans God has for her (and all of us,) toward her being who and how she is supposed to be and toward the wonder of getting to witness it all.

And what a wonder it all is…

Thank you Jesus for these days, ALL OF THEM. Thank you for the models and examples I have, who have released their precious babes into independence and show me that it will be exactly right, that indeed, everything is unfolding as it should. Thank you for the people who have helped prepare her, because the path you have led her toward is such a beautiful one. You are so good. Thank you for seasons, colors, smells, cultures and differences, all made in your image. And thank you, Jesus thank you for your death and resurrection for us all. How you love us is incomprehensible to me and yet, I am in awe that you do. Both/and indeed.

xoxo

John 14:1-4