Well, the day came. And it went. And we survived. 

… In fact, I might even go so far as to say we thrived. 

Move-in day at TCU with our oldest daughter, Ansley, was a full day – to say the least. But it was also a joy. And that was my prayer: “Lord, please be my strength and give me joy in the moment. This day will only happen once. Please don’t allow my emotions to lead me!”

I thought I might actually die during the two weeks leading up to this monumental move. There are plenty of folks who are by now pros at packing up their children — with all their belongings and dreams and goals — and launching them into the world. However, I want to go on record saying that navigating the marathon between senior year and move-in day for the first time felt like driving the road to Hana in Maui. (50 miles, 600 hairpin curves, and 54 one-way bridges. Yikes.) 

Our drive to Texas was actually 844 miles, to be exact, and significantly less scenic than Hana. But it felt like 600 turns and 54 one-way bridges (including the one over the Mississippi) to reach the final destination: drop-off. 

Perhaps this is why a Mama must grieve the season? Because “dropping off” our children means crossing a one-way bridge. We can only keep moving forward, as there is no turning back. As I approached every curve, I was tempted to turn back and start over. I wanted five more minutes to be gentle, to finish those words of encouragement, to share the words that lay hidden in my heart, to say prayers with her before bed, to look into her eyes and speak words of wisdom with patience, and to — please, Jesus! — help her organize her bedroom and maintain it. (Because you KNOW I tried!) 

It’s not that there wouldn’t be opportunities for moments like these again. Because I knew that there would be. However, they wouldn’t be those exact moments – not at that stage or at that age. Every day with our children and our spouses is a one-way bridge crossing roads flooded with curves. Truly, I encourage you to stop and soak in the scenery.

As we drove the road to Hana, we pulled over. We stopped. We put the car in park, and we experienced what lay before us in that present moment. We picked fresh fruit from the trees, and we tasted it. We watched surfers navigate waves far below the roads we traveled. We explored historic churches tucked away from the road and near the beach. We splashed in waterfalls and hiked up mountainsides. We strolled through lavender gardens, stood atop lava rocks, and listened to waves crash, splash, sing, and harmonize within creation. All of our senses were engaged. All of our attention was focused. We soaked it in. 

Parents, soak it in! 

Don’t race through these years so quickly that you miss the moments. Don’t drive the road to Hana with your eyes glued to the pavement. Of course, being wary of the road prevents you from getting into trouble. But focusing on the experiences along the road is just as important. Otherwise, the road really isn’t worth taking.

You know, a road with lots of twists and turns can make you a bit nauseous. And fast movement can become disorienting and make you feel a tad queasy. But, so can the trip through senior year to drop-off day. 

And after two days of driving across five states, 500 trips back and forth from the dorm “room” (more like a glorified box) and 12 hours of unpacking and organizing, the moment came. It was time for the hug on the dorm step.

We were there. In the moment. It was happening.

Ansley had a meeting that began in 15 minutes. There was no time to walk her to her new room called home. We were there in a big rented suburban, parked on the curb of the all-girls freshman dorm, with what seemed to be a million busy bees scattered around the sidewalk. 

Ansley opened the back passenger door and stepped out. And before I could even get my door opened, I glanced over my shoulder and caught my 13-year-old, sweet Lilly, in a bear hug around her sister’s neck. (Head on her shoulder, eyes closed, and tears falling.) I still tear up thinking about it. That picture won’t leave this Mama’s heart – not ever. 

I noticed a group of about ten girls walking by. And they noticed us too. I saw them see us. I felt terrible that this moment was so public, as Ansley is not a public display type of girl. She is quiet and gentle and thoughtful.

Ansley backed away from her little sister and walked over to me. My breath was arrested. (Should I remind you about the 844 miles?!)

I knew this was it. So, I decided to soak. I held her face and touched her skin. I looked into her gorgeous blue eyes. I kissed her head and took notice of the scent of the shampoo that I am so accustomed to smelling. I hugged her tight, really tight. And I listened to the whisper of “I love you” in my ear. I paused to soak this in. It was a moment that would all too soon become a memory. 

She pulled away to hug her Daddy. (I couldn’t watch.) And then, she turned to walk off. Yes, there were a few tears, but she was full of confidence. And as she did, God gave me a gift. 

… Remember those girls who walked by? As we began pulling away with our windows down and tears falling, God let me witness ten strangers reach out and grab my girl. They had walked to the corner of the sidewalk and were waiting! Waiting for her! One sweet girl — whose Mama and Daddy had certainly raised right — literally grabbed Ansley’s back and said “Walk with us!” And just like that, she was pulled in. 

As we continued driving we heard murmurs of “It’s okay! I cried when my mom left” and “Just let it all out!” This precious, blonde-headed girl with long curls threw her arm in the air, waved at me, and yelled “Don’t worry! We have her!” 

I’m not kidding. This really happened. As we drove away, we watched her be taken in and cared for. (Ansley was really fine. This little gift was for us!)

Finally, the day was almost over. (Almost.) We had a return that we needed to make, so we made our way to Target in silence. Lane knew that this one was on him – there was no way I was making a public appearance. So, I just sat. Lilly was crying in the backseat, and I really didn’t have much to offer. I reached back and patted her leg. I squeezed her hand, but I had no words. We were simply where we were. 

And then, as if The Lord hadn’t already made it known through those sweet girls that He had Ansley and that He loved me, He showed up again. As we sat there in tears, a familiar voice came through the radio. And not just a familiar voice, but a voice belonging to one of my dearest friends.

… She came right into that car with me!

Christy Nockels is what I like to call a heart friend. She released an album that spring that touched me in a powerful way. I prayed over Christy as she wrote the album. And I knew what was happening in her life as the songs were written. I was in the room with Ansley when the album was recorded. I knew all about this album, but when it was released, I was like a raving fan. I texted Christy all summer to remind her how much these songs were ministering to me and how loudly I was singing them both in the shower and out. I reminded her that I would revert to being her friend soon, but that I needed to run my course as her biggest fan and crazed stalker. These songs meant something to me deep down inside.

And sitting there in the Target parking lot, as I was tear-struck and wordless, entered my friend. My friend who I had just hugged goodbye the previous week, as she moved to another state. Her beautiful, anointed voice filled the car with Let It Be Jesus. It filled the space. And my God filled me up with peace. 

I watched Him fill Ansley’s empty walk with new friends and now, He was filling my empty car with my friend. He was filling my empty heart with my favorite song full of his truth. Let It Be Jesus – my song inside the storm. Jesus had me, and he had Ansley, Lane, Lilly, and Ward. Our family was being tossed around a bit — this was a very, very sharp curve on our road — but Jesus was reminding me to Be Still and Know He is God.

Lane came back, and it was finally time to end the day. It was time to begin a new season. The not yet was behind me and the what’s next was here. The day was finished, the season was complete, and the drop-off was over. Jesus gave me peace.

I had peace. Also, a stomachache. 

… But, I had peace.