
In two short weeks my firstborn will be transplanted to the East Coast to pursue his artistic dreams. I am happy for him. Really I am.
He has grown into a wonderful young man, full of life and enthusiasm. It has been a delight to see him discover his talents and then begin to branch out.
But New York is so far away! I have never been there, but he has. He describes it as an exciting place that stimulates his creativity. It is hard not to think of the scary-dangerous New York that I have seen in the movies.
We have now come to the part where we have to trust God to watch over him and provide for him. Truthfully, that has always been who was taking care of him, but he seemed safe in the circle of his family that loves him. Even though I don't know the people he will be living with, I trust his judgment. He usually chooses quality friends, albeit eclectic ones, and that will probably continue to be true.
So this is the season of letting go, sending him joyfully on his way, blessing his future plans.
I wonder how long this tearing and ripping sensation lasts?