It will happen. In fact, it has happened three times in my life already. It is needed. Yet, it is so painful.
The tearing away of a child from its mother's heart is a hideous, raw, wrenching sound.
Oh, they are not torn from our hearts from our side of the equation. No, they do the tearing themselves. It is only right and good that they do so. But it hurts like nothing else in life. For us.
When they are little, we long for moments of time when we can experience peace and quiet away from them to re-energize ourselves for the reunion with them seemingly minutes later. But how can we know? How can we have an inkling of the future and what it will bring as they go through the parent-worship of childhood, the gawkiness and snarkiness of the tween years, the angst of teen-agery.
And quite suddenly, they are young adults realizing their potential in the future world and the sweetness of independence from those who have shaped their lives thus far. The lure of what lies ahead is a power so strong that what lies behind seems cumbersome and annoying. The cocoon of childhood must be sloughed off and left behind in order to find the wings of adulthood looming ahead.
I remember. I'm quite sure that I, too, was clueless of what the perforation of parent and child did to my dear folks.
Now I am on the other side. You know sometimes when you tear away a perforation it doesn't go neatly. Sometimes, there are jagged cuts into the body of substance from which the sheet is being torn away. But usually we are able to correct the tear and make a clean break at the end.
So much like life.
I am there now. We are almost ready for the clean break. With every little disconnect of paper and notebook I am feeling undone. But it will be good. It will be okay. And I pray that one day all of my sheets of paper will fly to the places I dreamed they would go and the lifting off will all be worth it.
Thank you, Jesus, for giving me such a thick book that has so greatly enriched my life!