For years I have known that the day would come…the day that I would take my baby girl, my only daughter, to college. I used to count how many years until the day, then months, and then weeks. Now I’m counting days. I wasn’t sure how I would handle it, but now that it is here, I’m finding that I’m handing it okay. As long as I don’t think of “the lasts.”
It was a Sunday morning, and my teenage children and I were together at church. My son Gregory was in the worship band, rocking it out on his bass guitar. He was swaying back and forth, almost dancing, and belting out the song lyrics with a strong confidence. Later, during communion, I found a quiet place to pray with my daughter Hannah. I let her pray first, and she prayed so long that I didn’t think I would get to have a turn. She prayed a beautiful prayer that touched my heart.
It was later in the day as I was relaying these events to my husband that I realized that in spite of myself, my children had turned out well – they are hard workers, they have tender hearts and they unashamedly love Jesus.