Yesterday I took Chloe shopping for a dress to wear to homecoming. HOMECOMING!
She is going with friends, but still.
Today, I dropped Caleb off at Woodrow Wilson High School to shadow an IB student. I don't know who decided that those short private school skirts were alright to wear to a co-ed PUBLIC school in EAST DALLAS wear the girls are far from waify or WASPY, but that was a dumb decision. DUMB!
(Also, when these girls are in the Glee Club singing Beyonce's "All the SIngle Ladies", well, a mother's heart sinks. A bit.)
And tomorrow, I will pick up Chaz's girlfriend to take her to see him play baseball, because, well, because he's nineteen and he can't drive due to epilepsy. Yes, I said it. GIRLFRIEND.
My doctor took one look at me and said that I was not menopausal, because you can tell all that from one look right? Maybe she is right. Maybe just the fact that the apron strings are being ripped out of my hands as I am trying to desperately tighten them is causing a permanent, petrified anxiety attach which cause me to organize and clean and cook incessantly and not get any writing done, because then I have to face the truth.
The truth about what I am writing right here and now.
That I am not in control. I never have been. And it sucks.
Jesus, take the wheel . . .seriously.
Welcome to the club of letting go, sweet friend! Here's the secret I've learned, both from experience and from observation: if you can let go without a fight, you'll keep them closer than if you try to hold on. Paradoxical, I know. But so very, very true. Now comes the time where faith becomes real. Can I trust God to take care of my child, to correct them when they get off track, to speak to them about the direction of their lives, all that good stuff. And I know you can. It involves that pray without ceasing thing. :)
Good word. Good word. Thanks!
Post a Comment