I spent the morning at the post office waiting with Donny to renew his passport. We hope he will join us in Uganda during his Christmas break. We were turned away yesterday at 9:30- though they were only open for thirty minutes at the time- because they were full for the day. So in the wee hours on a Saturday morning we waited. Due to staffing problems they opened an hour later. The only point in this story that grieves me is that morning is precious here in the south. It’s the only possible time to be outdoors without suffering. The dog needs her share, the gardens beg for our attention and exercise is never as effective as when spent in the fresh morning air.
Normally a loss like this would have tipped my good nature out, but seeing as this is the “last” Saturday before Donny goes to university, I was thankful to sit side by side on stained chairs, endure the waiting babies cries and the blasting ipod’s overflow just to have a few laughs with him. We each read our books, easily sharing what we found interesting in our own reading. We didn’t talk about “it”. We synchronized our calendars for the week, promising to have a family dinner every night if he could also have time with his friends as they all go separate ways and make their last goodbyes. I even convinced him to go see Eat, Pray, Love with me. He was leary about being seen at a chick flick with his mom, but also somewhat interested in the film. We compromised to see it in the early morning when his friends would still be asleep, and I pay. Deal. We had a little eureka moment when we agreed to have a skype appointment with our computers every Sunday afternoon so we can see eye to eye and laugh together while he’s at school. Once he looked over my shoulder while I scribbled in my calendar and said, “hey you guys are going to do all that? I’m going to miss it.” I laughed. He wants to be in two places at once. I want him in two places at once.
I asked him if he is desperate to break out of here. He looked at me like he had no idea what I was talking about. His expression alone satisfied my concern. His home is not a place he needs to escape, and that tells me so much about his experience in the atmosphere we have created here. It’s been my objective to keep home a place where everyone is not only comfortable, but also peaceful, understood, loved and listened to with non-judgmental ears. It’s a relief that I didn’t mess up so much that he’s busting out of here at full speed. I know I made a slew of mistakes, I can cite them as easily as the contents of my fridge, but in the end, they aren’t what will be remembered.That’s a relief. What he takes away will be the comfort, love, laughter, and respectful relationships we share here. And if all that fails, he’ll be back for my cooking and Lucy’s kisses.
I still can’t believe our job raising him is near complete. I occasionally have a panic, “did I remember to teach him how to get stains out?” “will he over schedule himself and drown in activity or find himself alone and shy?” “does he really understand how to manage his bank account?” “Will he have the confidence to ask the important questions or will he be too proud to let on he’s clueless “Will he go to the doctor if he’s sick, or man it out for too long?” It occurs to me a job is never really finished. Life is all work in progress. He knows I’m here for when he gets stuck. And God will provide others who can help guide him. I am here and easy to reach. He is ready. Yet my heart is heavy. The weight must be the holding tank for all the tears that are going to flow this week. Not ordinary tears, these will flow at the same time I do a happy dance. I’ve never cried and danced at the same time. This is going to be a monumental first in my life, as well as his.