Today.
Eldest son got his long-coveted tattoo. He’s in Portland now, safe and sound. Ready to start Year Two of Multnomah University and Season Two of college basketball. While these all spin away from my reach, I am 
grateful for the always visible hand of our Lord – and a solid knowledge that I have done my best so far. Parenting never ends. This one has survived divorce, rebirth, world travel, girlfriend agony and car trouble. He’s a man of his own choosing who knows the unconditional love of a very imperfect mom. What mom can worry about a kid who inscribes God’s holy word on his skin?
The two little ones, not so little today. Grade 8 and Grade 1 launch in two weeks and I move between a desire to cherish the loose mornings of summer, versus helping them ignite their thinking brains. I joyfully admit that our summer has been the first season in which I have been a home-working consultant and not a full-time agency executive. (See me spinning-dancing on the morning dew in my PJs with utter gratitude.) We’ve celebrated this new life by pushing just about every envelope of beach-going and frivolous shopping. Why Stop Now!
Today, we also celebrate a spectacular reunion of father and son. My husband’s third born 17 year old. Buried in grief and deceit for five years…. Both of them. They reunite and, as men do, they look forward. The conversation closes with a cave-filling “I love you Dad.” I’m jittery with my desire to shout and ask too many questions. How could…? Why…? It was never …..!
But, I see that The Men know how to absorb and experience without a sledgehammer of over-talking. Our ears are not the only way to hear. They know this, and they are all that matters.
I weep inside with an overflowing of humility and gratitude for being a part of a mysterious and beautiful mosaic.
