I've had a busy couple of days. My eldest son graduated high school Friday, celebrated his 17th birthday with friends Saturday, and left for a six-week mission trip this morning. It was 5am when we said "goodbye" at the airport.
It was hard to leave him at the security checkpoint. My DH was watching closely to see that he got his carry-ons through. Too closely, apparently, because the security guard forcefully stood up and told him to step back. "But I only want to make sure my son is o.k..." he tried to explain. The security guard was unmoved. Actually, he did make a move, standing up and walking toward us threateningly until my husband turned around and we went downstairs to the lobby. "We'll take good care of him," another airline employee said consolingly. But I knew that wasn't it. He would take care of himself. He was ready to fly.
Later, my DS called and said his two flights had gone well and he'd been greeted by his new friends in MN. Now he's in for 2 wks. of intensive 12-hr. training sessions before traveling to Honduras for a month. We've been asked to write him encouraging messages the leaders can give him while he's overseas, since we won't be able to have any other contact with him at that point. Right now that seems like a tall order. How do I put into words all the love I feel for him? How can I find the right way to express my encouragement for him to spread his wings and fly, while missing him so much in our little nest?
There seems to be an invisible line that he has crossed over; a barrier we should not cross unless he needs us to. At the airport, only those with boarding passes can get past the security checkpoint. In life, each of our children will eventually cross a checkpoint when they step out on their own and we step back and take our places as supportive observers. This has been happening gradually, especially in the last year since my DS turned 16, started driving, got a job and started taking college classes. Today was another step toward his launch into adulthood. I may be standing on the sidelines, but I'm cheering loudly with pride.
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