My baby is in New York. My 24 year old man-child is visiting his cousin. This is his first time traveling alone up in the clouds without (kettle drums please)-- MOM. I guess I was more apprehensive than he was. I'm a mom. My emotions were going haywire. I had to get present to what it is that I am really feeling? My one-and-only doesn't need me anymore. Rational me says--Yes, I know he still needs to know that I love and care for him and that I will always be there for him, but some crazy irrational part of me wants to HANG ON! "Come on", I tell my independent-self, "cut those apron strings already!" A little piece of me is ripping away. My heart aches, the tears follow and I attempt to swallow those emotions past the painful lump in my throat.
The years he was in preschool, after the long summer together, I would take him back to school and he would stand by the gate holding on and crying for me. It was painful for both of us. After the second or third day it was "normal" again. This time dropping him off at the airport, we waited together. I watched as he went through security. I asked him to turn around and wave to me after clearance. Sure enough he complied. No tears. No clutching-- an adult wave; a slight manly wave. The tears were mine. I walked back to my car and knew that God would give me the strength to get through this growing pain too.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Promises
I have made many promises to friends and acquaintances. And I have broken many, but I've probably broken more promises to myself than I care to remember. Publishing my writing is one of those many promises to myself that has gotten broken thousands of times.
I've known since I was in elementary school that I liked to write. I enjoyed it. As I moved up through the ranks, I loved keeping a journal. I would write about my boy-crushes and the heartache that would ensue. I vented on paper. Keeping a journal was therapeutic. My journals were my best friends I could tell them anything. It was easy.
Now as an adult, that little voice inside my head that tells me to write and share it with the world has gotten LOUDER! I can no longer ignore it. But my concern for whatcha y'all think hinders my self-expression. The Holy Spirit is urging me; pushing me; throwing-me-off-a-cliff to share my work with those who care (or not)! My integrity is now at stake. In my world, it is has become so BIG-- it is a sin not to share.
Today, I am fulfilling on the biggest promise to myself-- sharing myself (by way of blogging) with You.
I've known since I was in elementary school that I liked to write. I enjoyed it. As I moved up through the ranks, I loved keeping a journal. I would write about my boy-crushes and the heartache that would ensue. I vented on paper. Keeping a journal was therapeutic. My journals were my best friends I could tell them anything. It was easy.
Now as an adult, that little voice inside my head that tells me to write and share it with the world has gotten LOUDER! I can no longer ignore it. But my concern for whatcha y'all think hinders my self-expression. The Holy Spirit is urging me; pushing me; throwing-me-off-a-cliff to share my work with those who care (or not)! My integrity is now at stake. In my world, it is has become so BIG-- it is a sin not to share.
Today, I am fulfilling on the biggest promise to myself-- sharing myself (by way of blogging) with You.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)