So kiss me and smile for me

On the way home from church today, Emily pointed out to me that the date for Summer Girls Camp was on the church bulletin for future planning. She is very excited about the fact that she gets to go to camp this next summer. We were discussing it as a family and talking about how we don't know what we will do without her for an entire week. After a few minutes, Spencer burst into tears. It took several minutes of him sobbing uncontrollably before we could get out of him what was the matter. He looked at me with eyes full of tears and weeped, "I don't want Emily to go for a whole week. I'll miss her." I had seen similar eyes once before almost 15 years ago in the wee hours of the morning of August 1, 1993. This was the morning that I loaded up my little grey Chevette and headed to Utah to attend college. The eyes that were full of tears were Anna's. It was heartbreaking to leave her that day and I remember crying my way through several states.

I don't know if my father was really wise or really stupid for letting me drive myself to Utah from Ohio at age 18. I know that I wouldn't let my daughter do it in a million years. However, he let me exert some independence and because of that experience, I learned a great deal. I learned that I am not a follower of the crowd. I learned that I love my home and my family more than anything in the whole world. I learned that BYU isn't the only place on the earth for strong, happy, faithful LDS people to be after high school. I don't think I would have learned these lessons in any other way than doing what I did that August morning.

For some reason, I have been thinking a lot lately about leaving home and having children leave home. This experience that Emily will have this summer of going to Girls Camp and being independent of her family is the first of many that will come to her over the next few years. Before we know it, she will be 18 and heading out to the college of her choice (as long as it is MSU). I know it is 6 years away, but it is going to fly by. When she was born, my dad said something very wise. He was holding her in his arms, his first grandchild, and he looked at me and said, "In what will feel like 2 weeks, she will be driving." I laughed then and thought there was no way that that was true. However, I sit here almost 12 years after he said it and I know it is true. It feels like yesterday that she was born and tomorrow she will leave.

As I think about all these things, I wonder if I am feeling a small part of what Heavenly Father feels when He sends us to this earth and we leave Him for a little season. We come to this earth to exert our independence and try out new things. He hopes we will choose the right path and return home again one day. I picture Him releasing us to our new experience knowing that mortality is such a short time and knowing that we are going to make mistakes but that we are going to return to Him having learned so many things that we could only learn from our turn on earth. I am thankful to Him for giving us this opportunity.

I remember the teary eyes that greeted me home on December 19, 1993. The joy that I had when I ran into my home in Toledo and embraced my father and my sister after being separated from them for those 4 months is indescribable. There were tears shed on this morning, but they were tears of happiness and joy. This reunion could only possibly be eclipsed by the reunion that we will have one day with our Father and our Savior after mortality. As our family begins to navigate new waters of children experiencing life in new ways independent from our family, I pray that we will adapt to this change. Though the parting might hurt for a moment and we will miss each other, we are sealed together forever. Thankfully, this eternal bridge connects us no matter where mortality may take us.