Youngest Son is on his way to the wedding and then to college. Five days just wasn’t long enough. I never got to have a good talk with him. What is in his heart? Where will these days take him? In my heart, I hear the call for relinquishment. I gave him birth. Can I give him wings?
Middle Daughter has started back to school at Beebe School of Nursing. Her car, wrecked a year ago, is still not fixed. “Maybe another week or two.” (For what it’s worth, there are some repairs that are not safely trusted to Polytech’s Auto Repair Shop.) She cheerfully drives a borrowed clunker, but what a glad day it will be when her beautiful little black Volkswagon is back in operation
Youngest Daughter is starting back to school in one week. The summer has been too short, and it seems like it cannot be time for this to happen. She has had quite a busy, exciting summer, and there are good, good memories, but there just wasn’t enough time to do everything.
Oldest Son is preparing for his great trek into the unknown. Exciting ministry offers coupled with the prospect of the training of the next few months have made him anxious to be done with “this part of his life” and to get on with the next stage. Tomorrow is his last day of work before leaving. Then we have a week to prepare. Lots and lots of things to get done. And so many things that I’d like to say before he goes. Will he hear? Probably. Will he listen? I hope.
Cecilia has come down with a miserable case of shingles. Cecilia, who on the best of days, can be challenging, is really causing me to cry out to my Heavenly Father for grace. I don’t blame her for being a bit troublesome. Shingles is a miserable disease, and I know she is uncomfortable. And when you can’t see and you don’t talk, it has to be frustrating. We waited in the walk-in clinic today (her doctor is out of town) so that the State could have an “official” diagnosis on a piece of paper. And of all the things that Linda hates to do, waiting is the hardest. Especially in public places where there are people watching. Today she threw her shoes while I was signing her in, pulled up her shirt, coughed and burped loudly and snorted about. Now she has a Darvocet in her to help with the pain, and she is sitting quietly. Nettie, bless her heart, has been co-operative, helpful and kind. I’m sure it isn’t easy for her, either.
To be honest, I am so very tired. And on days when the good-byes are so fresh as well as so pending, I long to see my Daddy’s face and hear his comforting words.