My youngest is 12 going on 13 mid-July. He’s my more adventurous one of my last two children. When the opportunity to go to a church retreat for a week came up, he was all for it. I was nervous. It’s six hours away!
My two oldest kids have done things like this before, but it’s different with my baby. I’m not sure why.
So, with a nervous stomach, we packed him on the church van with six other middle schoolers and sent him off to a college campus to have his first mountain top experience learning about God.
My first fear was passed when they arrived. I don't like other people driving my kids. Phew! Of course, they still have to come back.
Then comes the first phone call, he’s having a blast! They are playing on water slides, investigating the “way cool” dorm room they will call home for the week, and he’s buying snacks with the money sent. He’s a BIG snacker. I hope the money lasts!
The next day – the mild heart attack. He and his friend have managed to become separated from the group and are wondering around campus trying to find them. He did the right thing – he called his dad for his counselors phone number. I had to smile at his maturity in handling the situation. He did finally find them and all is well. I knew it would be, but when there’s a small crisis like this all the horror stories I’ve read immediately go on instant replay.
Four more days. Wednesday is my next concern – they will either be white water rafting or on a zip line. Yikes! Ok, yes, I’m over protective. How can I not be? Life is precious and oh so fragile…
No, I’m not sitting here in a frenzy counting down the days, it’s not as bad as I’m making it seem. However, he’s my baby. They all are, and I want so much to keep them safe. But, much like each mama bird, sometimes we have to let them out of the nest to spread their wings. It’s just such a relief when they fly back home full of wonderful tales, and you can put your arms around their neck, hug them tight and breathe a sigh of relief.