Waiting Up

It is 2:20am. Happy Mother's Day! I have been waiting for my Senior son to get home from his high school prom. He took an adorable girl from our stake. We parents went to take pictures of them (the group he went with) at the park before they took off in their limos for dinner and the dance. As I was snapping pictures, I couldn't help but shake my head in denial that my own prom in high school was more than twenty years ago and more unbelievable than that, I have a child graduating from high school in one month! Where has the time gone?
I have been trying to catch up on his photo albums and organize his memoriabilia lately. Something akin to that nesting instinct I had when I carried him in my tummy, only this time it's to prepare myself for pushing him out of the nest so he can fly. Heaven knows I am not ready to do that. I don't want to. I want to nestle him under my wing and shelter him from the storms that may lie ahead. Among his photos and keepsakes I found something I wrote long ago in a far distant time and place:

"I'm watching you sleeping in your little carseat;
so peaceful and innocent.
In the summer's heat your little head shines with beads of sweat trickling slowly down your plump, rosy cheeks.
As I gaze at you in awe, I feel overwhelmed with gratitude to be a part of your life-and you a part of mine.
Your special presence has caused many wounds to heal, suns to shine, and brighter, happier days in my life.
Your small, upturned nose and cherub mouth are sweet as they can be.
I love you, Jordan, and I am grateful to be your mother."

Next month, we are strapping him in, or rather, he will strap himself in, a car seat and we will drive him to college. I imagine that I'll keep turning my head to look at that face I still wish to gaze at. Only now it holds years of a battle with a world shouting to come in and overtake his innocense and sweetness. He has fought valiantly and, in my opinion, victoriously, to maintain purity in an ever-darkening arena. His face holds sincerity, sensitivity, wisdom, diligence, and strength forged by years of right choices, trials, and opportunity.

Next month will bring a rigorous exercise in letting go and trusting. Much like that first day of Kindergarten when you leave them in someone else's hands. Hoping the love and training you've provided is enough to help them succeed in their new environment and journey as a student. Only this time, I will release him to the world and the path he will travel trusting again that the love and training we have given is enough.

Not sure I am up for the challenge, but it is coming ready or not! I can't help but marvel that my own mother had to push all of us out of the nest. (Some of us left more reluctantly than others:) How did she muster up the courage and strength to do it? I wonder how she has managed at all given the trust and faith she has had to forge in a world that takes children in their young years and even adulthood from your loving arms, leaving them aching and empty?

He's home now. Walked in from his date. Happy and tired. I am going to actually miss waiting up. I look forward to when he walks through the door and I get to ask if he had fun with his friends. I think in a month's time, my heart will still be "waiting up" when he's gone. Hoping he is happy, having fun, and success in his life. My heart will still wait for him to walk through the door.