I’ve gotten used to their comings and goings, these children of mine, yet there’s still a pang in my heart when they leave. Today they’re off, my firstborn and his sweet bride, off to her native land for a year of study and entrepreneurial activity. The car is stuffed with what they’ll need for their sojourn there and riding low in the back - 1800 miles from their destination.
I worry a bit, I’ll admit. I worry about whether the car will make it there (this from the man who drove to Virginia and back in a van that required three pumps of the brake pedal to stop), I worry about bandits and drug gangs, I worry about a host of things, and all to no avail, as my worrying won’t change anything.
So I wave as they disappear around the corner, headed south, and I commend them to God in the hope of having them return to me, one day in the near future, safe, sound and with great stories to tell.