one last glass of chocolate milk- launching Aggie

 1. We got a few bonus moments this summer

before she went and launched herself out west

night singing and rain walking

thrift shopping and car dancing

marvelling at the mountains, the lakes, even a moose

but now it’s time

to pry open my fist, again

to hug goodbye, to cry behind sunglasses

my mama heart is never ready for this

it can consent to change (sort of)

it can commend to the Lord (partially)

& it still trembles, winces, aches

2. This week, she discovered a new superpower. If she touches me during a hymn, if she holds my hand or leans on my shoulder, I immediately lose the ability to sing.

3. Look, how the world goes on shining even when I'm not there*

like right now;

mom is probably watering her flowers in michigan

and the waves are crashing on the pier

and my watermelon are still growing bit by bit near the sweltering cornfield

and a mountain lake is silently reflecting the sky

right now shining, somewhere

my son is mowing a lawn and cherishing his wife in Kentucky

my daughter is serving coffee and opening her heart to new adventures in Indiana

my newly-launched daughter is adjusting to altitude, cool air, new everything in Wyoming

and no,

God tells me, when I protest,

i can't have a front row seat to everything all at once

if God wants to expand and expand his work

far outside my line of vision, well…

first of all, he already has, He already was

I have never been the center

He’s been at this for years

and there is even more there

and there

and way over there, shining

(I think he’ll take me there someday

when my hands are emptier)

Meanwhile, I’m not there

but I am here

resolutely here

with my limited front row seat

with my arms that do not reach across the country

even as my heart keeps trying to

4. I want to lay a gravestone

“in loving memory of the front row seat”

and then plant a flower

“in loving embrace of this seat, today”

but for now I’ll just pour one last round of chocolate milk

so she can raise one last glass with her brothers

and that will be it.

5. Bloom, daughter,

Keep your heart open and your hand in His.

He’s got you. He always has.

-----

*inspired by Mary Oliver

on bracing for impact

They were out on the boat and the wind shifted; the waves were suddenly threatening

Yikes! Pack in the tube, drop off the littles, and drive the half hour back into the harbor for safety.

But I hadn’t had my boat ride yet. So in a wild impulse, I asked to get on. 

Just climbing on the boat was wild in those huge waves; that should have been my clue.

But, fun, and risk, and a day in the sunshine on Lake Michigan with my people!

My heart wants to plunge in, embrace every second of it. 

It was rougher than I thought it would be. I kept looking at his face-

Are we good?
You got this?
Is this real danger or am I just scared? 

I stood so I could see the waves coming, bend my knees and balance with them. I’m always more comfortable that way; with this tiny illusion of control.

The waves were big enough that the jets came out of the water several times; the entire boat came out of the water more than once. The impact after a wave like that sometimes felt like the boat would crack in half. 

I look at his face- are we good? He’s not smirking, or laughing at my fear this time. 

He’s concentrating too hard for that. 

My death grip got shaky and I realized I was wearing myself out. 

You signed up for this!

But I didn't know how scary it would be!

Look at you there- fighting the waves- who is that helping?

Is there really another option?

Just to experiment, I unclenched. And the boat didn’t fall apart. 

I unclenched, and didn’t fly off. 

I unclenched, and nobody died. 

Nobody even noticed. 

The waves just kept waving as they were before;

The boat kept making wild steady progress just as before.
I think I felt Jesus and Josh smirking at me, a little. 

I unclenched, and found myself free to look around a little.
To notice how the yahoos in the front were laughing; one was even holding his hands in the air like he was on a roller coaster. (Show off!)

To marvel at my husband’s skill in maneuvering the boat (and his curly hair)

to imagine the predictive calculations his brain and body were making every minute

to thank God he has a brain like that (plus steady nerves)

and even, a few times, to lean IN to the waves instead of fighting

to jump with tentative approval when the boat jumped

to laugh.

I unclenched, 

released my fake control,

and found myself free.