The following has been Carson approved. 

Well, Carson starts his last semester of college, next week. (Cue the singing angels.) He’s been home since December 11 or so and he plans to go back to school just as soon as some shoes are delivered here on Friday. I imagine he’ll have his truck packed and idling at the end of the driveway, waiting on the UPS man. It’s been a wonderful holiday season with him, but it’s time. I think we can all agree. It’s time. 

There’s something so magical about when your kid comes home from college for the Christmas holidays. They’re relieved to be done with schoolwork for a while and excited to be home to enjoy the food and festivities of the season and you’re happy finally feeling like your holidays can begin. They walk through the door and it’s almost like a sappy Christmas movie. You’re sure you hear Bing singing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” softly in the background. The lights are twinkling. The smell of cider simmering on the stove fills the air. Their favorite meal is in the oven to welcome them home. They rush over to hug you. Even with the season’s frost on the window panes, all the cozy feels of your fuller home are bubbling up inside of you. Even their bag of dirty laundry reminds you of Santa’s pack as you happily take it to the laundry room. It’s just like when they were kids. You’re finally under the same roof again to enjoy all the family traditions together. 

The first few days are considered the honeymoon period. You can’t wait to get started on the list of Christmas activities you have planned. There are movies to watch and lights to see and presents to deliver and friends to visit and food to cook. The refrigerator is full of all of the ingredients needed to make their most favorite 42 dishes over the course of their stay. You’ve got whipped cream for the cocoa, all the favorite cereals, a hearty supply of sausage balls formed in the freezer, and a pantry that looks like the snack aisle at Kroger. You’re happy to play the role of doting Mom for a while and they’re more than happy to be on the receiving end of it after eating the standard college fare and doing their own housekeeping. 

Pretty quickly, there are noticeable changes in the flow of the household. After all, it’s been on auto-pilot, running on the schedule of two old people, who are neck deep in their habits and routines. All of a sudden, you hear the door open at 12 a.m. as they head out for a midnight jog. The kitchen light is on intermittently throughout the night. Eggs at 1:00 a.m.. Leftovers from dinner at 2:30. The clothes pile in the laundry room has been self-perpetuating ever since Santa came home with his pack. The washing machine knows no holiday. That package of Chips Ahoy, you bought the day before, sits on the counter housing only crumbs. A box of cereal that would normally last a week is gone in two sittings. Milk pours out from its cartons like gutter downspouts in a rainstorm. It’s lunch time and you find yourself putting the barking dog outside, so she won’t wake the slumbering house guest. You wonder what time of day would warrant you entering their bedroom for a wellness check. Is that the shower running again? Is that the third or fourth time today? 

But, this is what you’ve been waiting for, so you’re quick to overlook any disruptions or inconveniences. You’re just so happy to have them home, so you look for the cuteness in it all. It’s the holiday season and you want them to feel full, rested, and loved as long as they’re under your roof. With Christmas just around the corner, you can sense they’re starting to feel the excitement of the impending festivities. Just maybe being back in their childhood home reignites a small spark of that long-gone childlike anticipation of Christmas. They’re in a jolly mood. Laughing. Joking. They’re the picture of merriment in the glow of the twinkling lights and flickering candles. Each gift seems to bring out the excitement they had when they were small. All is merry and bright in the warmth of kith and kin. 

Carson: Appears as pictured, flaunting his chest hair. “I’m ready, girl.” 

Happy Christmas memories. All is well. 

Cue record player needle scratching across record. 

The holidays are over. The house is a complete wreck. They’ve been home for three weeks now. That regenerating laundry pile has lost its luster now that the twinkling lights have been unplugged. The errands they were happy to run for you, a few days ago, are getting to be a pain since Santa is no longer working on that list thing. Your insistence that they rinse the dishes off before putting them in the dishwasher is seen as nagging now that Bing has stopped singing in the background. Long moments of silence in the car are no longer periods of reflections on the season, but simmering aggravation fueled by someone being too something or another. Extended time holed up in their room is not for wrapping up surprises in pretty paper anymore, but a retreat from too much time spent where the love light gleams. Cooking 4 meals a day has lost its appeal since the candles have been extinguished. AirPods become permanent ear plugs for reducing exposure to irritating parental music and banter. So, yeah, it’s getting about that time. 

“Stop with the pictures, Mom.”

So, Carson will leave us on Friday. Back to just the two of us and Ruby. The thing about a man leaving his father and mother sounds so unbearably sad to a mother of a little boy. She just can’t imagine living apart from her little man and not being the center of his world. But, it’s a miraculous thing that God does. He ever so carefully and gradually and gently takes us, mothers, to the place where we’re really fine with that. Not to an uncaring and unloving place, but to a warm and proud place where the mother of a son is ready for him to go and be a man and she knows he could never do that under her feet. For me, I came to the place not long after he’d gone off to college. When I look at the once little boy who wanted to marry me, I see a man now and my heart finds it a lot easier to let go of him that way. 

So, Friday, we’ll wave goodbye as he drives off toward his last semester of college. Davis and I both pray for God to lead him to the life, love, vocation, and destination that are meant for him just like we did for his sister. We really did enjoy our time with him- likely our last extended Christmas holiday together. But, I imagine we’ll all be doing a jig Friday to get back to our norms. Him being out from under our watchful eye. Us being back on our beaten and familiar path. Ten years ago, the thought of him leaving us would have left me sobbing in my pillow. On Friday, I’ll be waving and smiling. Not as big as him though. It’s pretty cool how God helps a Mama’s heart get from one place to another. 

I found this prayer when Carson was born and have it written in his baby book. 

Build me a son, O Lord, who will be strong enough to know when he is weak; and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid; one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat and humble and gentle in victory. 

Build me a son whose wishes will not take the place of deeds; a son who will know Thee- and that it is the foundation stone of knowledge. 

Lead him, I pray, not in the path of ease and comfort, but under the stress and spur of difficulties and challenge. Here let him learn to stand up in the storm; here let him learn compassion for those who fail. 

Build me a son whose heart will be clear, whose goal will be high; a son who will master himself before he seeks to master other men; one who will reach into the future, yet never forget the past. 

And after all these things are his, add, I pray, enough of a sense of humor, so that he may always be serious, yet never take himself too seriously. Give him humility, so that he may always remember the simplicity of true greatness, the open mind of true wisdom, and the meekness of true strength. 

Then I, his father (and his mother) will dare to whisper, “I have not lived in vain.” 

General Douglas MacArthur 

Lord, be with all the mothers on the path that starts with holding a boy and leads to letting go of a man.

Happy Thursday! 

JONI