There's a New Sun Rising

I can hear her in the next room. She's packing up her things...a lifetime of things. Clothes and trinkets and ballet shoes. Books, perfume, makeup and curling irons (aren't there at least five of those?) She finished college then has worked in Human Resources for several years. She's paid her rent and her own way at every turn. Some would say she's lived here too long. Our three sons have been married for several years now, but we've fallen into an easy rhythm with the girl. She's still our daughter, but somewhere along the way she became a woman and my comrade. Our kitchen forays included cleaning, cooking and a lot of dancing. She's quick-witted and funny, smart and insightful. She started out as my little sidekick to every shower and ladies luncheon I ever attended. She ended up my confidante and friend. How am I supposed to let her leave?

Her dear fiance stopped by yesterday. He had borrowed Papa's truck and was working on their new house over the weekend. He sat in the living room and spoke to me about how he knew it was going to be hard for me. He then talked about how much he loved her, how beautiful her eyes were, how stubborn she is. That mean boy. I've gotten used to her presence here, but it was never meant to stay that way. At her age (several years post college) and my age, you'd think I would be hoopin' and hollerin' to get shed of her. It's the thing that we prepare and pray for our kids -- that they'll find their wings and fly one day. We really don't want our fledglings to stay in the nest forever. That would stunt them, restrict their possibilities. The reality of that day, that last child, that last chapter...it's a strange, bittersweet mixture of emotions. It's a death of sorts. We aren't parting from the world (not that I know of, yet), but there is a leaving and cleaving that still stings. I'm reminded of nostalgic and happy days of their childhoods and then reminded of Ken's and my own frailty as we look towards the unsure future. I hate the buzzword "new normal" but that's exactly what it is. 

How I bless God that we're putting her into the hands of a man who is honest and good, godly, intelligent and hardworking. They've waited for each other and God made it happen. What more could a parent want? As the last few days of her singleness slip by, the evenings quiet and still, we stay up too late idling and talking. I'm anticipating a sea change in a couple of weeks. My husband is a morning bird and I'm a night owl. I'm an artist and he's an organizer. We might just have to get to know one another again. It's a new day dawning, and my beloved is still my beloved. But I sure am gonna miss that dancing.