It’s probably too early to clearly articulate the feeling of leaving one of your children at college. It maybe something that can’t be articulated… But, what I will say is, nothing can prepare you for it.
Now, to get to the moment is progressive but it is not a progressive change.
The last hug
The last kiss
The last prayer
Then the whole world instantly changes.
She’s not walking back with you.
She’s not in your car…
She’s not singing in the car on your trip back.
Her car isn’t in its spot in your driveway when you arrive home.
Her room is lifeless.
The “stuffed dog” she has slept with her entire life is suddenly just there on the bed alone.
The younger one takes her chair at the table… leaving his empty.
There are three at home and not four.
The other is starting their next season of life which forces you to begin yours.
You cry, not because there is a death or something has gone wrong… You cry because of the magnitude of the change that is instantly thrown upon you. A change that makes the last 18 years feel like a vapor.
But you are thankful.
Thankful that she is healthy, that she is an amazing kid, that somehow you have done something right.
You know this is good for her. (Swallow)
The change. (Swallow)
The step into adulthood.
The responsibilities that are now hers to bear.
Thankful that she knows Christ and has a heart to follow him.
For her safety – her protection – her focus…
and that He who has begun a good work in her will bring it to completion and not allow her to leave the straight and narrow path.
But then you comeback to where you are currently and you realize…
a big chunk of your heart has been left somewhere.
Its a chunk that can’t be replaced…
it can only visit from time to time…
at least you still have that…
to look forward too.