Perhaps I am beyond 'A'; but whatever letter I'm on, it seems like whatever is next will be after this pregnant moment in time.
Tami and I moved our last child out of town today and we are experiencing it through different parts of ourselves. In our heads, we know it is good and it is time. We want it for our son, for his growth. In our hearts, we ache for something we have so enjoyed, raising a family. We love the uniqueness of each of our kids. We miss the coming sense that we won't have the same kind of intimate knowledge of their lives that we've had. We know it is more that reality isn't gone, it is just changing--that there will be new ways to enjoy our relationships with them. And, yet, we feel a missing of something, too. I missing of them, of their presence, of all that is baked into being together as we have been.
Life is dynamic; it changes. That is a good thing, at many levels. Our ability to be alive is contingent upon that kind of change. We continue to grow because of it.
So, what is our next letter? What does it look like? What isn't anymore? What will become? What remains? How do we move with a healthy mix of grieving what no longer is and anticipating what is already on its way? What does it mean to recognize this moment for what it, as we wait for what is still coming?
