Today is the day.
Today is the day we say goodbye….for now.
Today is the day we pack four rubbermaid Action Packers, one 15 lb. weighted blanket, one guitar, one bass, one ukulele, and one betta fish into the back of our 12-passenger van.
Today is the day both Mary Hannah and Mathaus head back to school.
Part of them—and part of us, if we’re honest—can’t wait. These past few weeks there’s been some chafing as four adults (and one almost adult) have struggled taking turns at the helm of the ship that is our home. What’s that saying about too many cooks? I think it involves spoiling soup. But our soup was never spoiled, per se…it just ended up a little too salty for one person, and in need of a touch more pepper for the next, just right for a third…and was the wrong soup altogether for the one left standing in the corner shrugging.
I think it’s a normal side effect of burgeoning adulthood—to outgrow the place in your family that once fit just right. My two oldest at home have suffered from a sort of Goldilocks Syndrome at moments throughout the summer. Finding their “just right” was hard, and took us all exercising a kind of godly patience and humility that we’ve never used with one another before.
Then, too, they’re a little heartbroken. And so are we. Life will go on without them here, and that thought causes a lump in everyone’s throat. We’ve done this part before—Mathaus was at Bryan all last year, and Mary Hannah’s midwifery studies took her to Idaho for long stints—and we know the peculiar ache of missing someone that a moment feels incomplete without. Birthdays will be celebrated without the two of them joining in on our traditional Beatles’ “Birthday” dance. I’ll serve chicken enchilada soup and Mary Hannah won’t be here to rave that it’s her absolute, hands-down favorite meal. John Mark will look up from his math and announce that he can’t figure out what they’re asking about this triangle, and there will be no Mathaus to swoop in and give the simplest yet most effective explanation you’ve ever heard.
It’s life as a family, these comings and goings. It’s our season. And truly, it’s good. Watching these two best friends who are also siblings fly together to a shared perch makes my heart so, so happy. Feeling their joy at this next step in their journey…that’s a happiness to this Momma, too. Even seeing the loss in the eyes of the children left at home reminds me of our blessing—we are raising people whose hearts are bound together, and who will, after we are gone, seek the company of one another.
But it’s still bittersweet. And it’s still hard. God’s design for this time in my life is a bigger letting go than I realized at 20, 30, or even 40. I rejoice in His provision for this time…and trust in His plan to work all things out for His glory, in His time.