Last night I cried over a turquoise, felt-tip marker. You have to know this 17-year-old baby of mine. The one who wears socks that have everything from tacos to mustaches on them. The one who does his homework in block letters because he doesn't want his writing to look like anyone else's. The one who does calculus assignments in felt-tip pen because he thinks it looks so classy.
This is the boy who just cost us $300 in college enrollment fees.
And I am going to miss him terribly.
On Sunday night, his youth pastor came over with a referral letter, for Caleb to include in his college scholarship applications. He asked the family to gather in the living room, and he read the hand-crafted and thoughtful letter out loud to us.
Praises and blessings poured over our son.
Celebration for the man we had raised.
On Tuesday night we went to our son's second-to-last choir concert. There was a 4:00 showing and a 7:00 showing, and my husband thought we should go to both, because it's almost over.
Almost completed –- this raising of a son.
If you're in this place of releasing your child to adulthood, maybe you would like some company? I walked this road once before when my daughter graduated and now again with my son, so I thought I could share some insights with you.