As I'm typing this, my girl, my oldest, is raising a tent in the backyard as a last horaw for her closest friends before they each head in different directions for college next week. She's decided to stay close on this camping trip, while barely dipping her toe in the adventure of the wilderness. This I love, this I've come to know and appreciate about my girl. The dipping of her toe is the sweetest way she tests the waters to see how far she'll go. Always, the dipping of the toe, the late night processing of the toe dipping and the eventual plunging of the rest of her body that leads to the greatest discussions and adventures on earth. So here I sit, soaking up the dipping of her toe, awaiting the processing that is sure to come and counting down the days when the processing will move from me to her roommates. I'm excited for my girl, for sure I am. But my goodness how I'm relying on the Spirit to carry me as the nights dwindle and the time approaches for my oldest to make her way without me. I do not want to be that mom who clings, who insists on her time, who requires communication and attention when this time is so my girl's time, 100% her journey. But that mom is lurking just below my skin, begging for more time, pleading for deep conversation, replaying all the sweetest nights that have led to the one that I dread. And then, right in the middle of it all, my God is faithful in speaking truth to me, in wooing me to His Word and reminding me that He is ever present in my life and in my girl's. So tonight I watch the tent raising, the girls talking, the sun slowly going down and I lift my gaze to The One Who holds it all in the palm of His hand.