Saturday, May 8, 2010
Leaving the Nest
The young man pictured here is my nephew by marriage. He is going to graduate this month. Actually this week. Thursday night to be exact.
I can remember the day he was born and the first time I got to hold him. I remember him as a toddler struggling to form words ,and finding my name a little to difficult, I became EE-EE. The first time he ever called me Kristi, I had to catch myself from correcting him. I wanted to say 'don't call me that, I'm EE-EE." Anyone could call me Kristi, but this name was my own special name, given to me by him.
Thursday night he will graduate with the Senior Class of 2010. Then in the fall he will attend Bible College in the state of Indiana. I can't imagine how his mother is feeling or what emotions she is experiencing.
This month housing Mother's Day, I have thought a lot about what mothers go through starting when they carry that precious life in the womb and never stop throughout their lifetime. It is a continual mix of love and fear and protection.
We want our children to grow up healthy and strong, self sufficient and independent. We just don't realize that in the end that means letting them go. Letting them spread their wings and make their own way in this life. These are the joys and sadnesses of motherhood that no one can prepare you for until you experience it firsthand.
I have a few more years before I have to face that with my own son, but I have glimpsed the bittersweetness that will bring in dealing with the emotions surrounding my nephew.
But when the time comes, I hope to channel the quiet strength of mother's that have come before me. That steadfast strength and determination. That inner voice piercing through the fear, whispering " you have done your job well, he will make it, today he will fly, today he will soar."
To you Kyler, I say, 'Go West Young Man' do what you feel led to do. Just know that you are loved and will be greatly missed. And before you take flight, give your mother an extra long hug, one that will linger long after you have soared out of sight.
Photo used by permission.