California, here they come.
And I’ve had trouble being happy about that.
We recently said goodbye to one of our sons, his wife, our grandpup, and most of their earthly goods (except the ones we’re storing and holding as ransom), as they embarked on a grand new life adventure in California.
I’m seriously conflicted about it all. Happy that Andy will be doing what he loves to do, designing web pages for a new tech company in the capital of the geek universe, Silicon Valley; but sad that this job is waaaaaay over on the Left Coast, which means he and Janine won’t be coming over for family dinners, football games on T.V., or hilarious games of “Balderdash.”
This parenting thing never stays easy for very long, does it? As I said to a friend recently, “Just about the time you can relax and really start enjoying your kids, they move away.” Of course, I was kidding, sort of.
I’ve enjoyed my boys at every stage of their lives, but parents, you know what I mean. Those first couple of decades in the parental trenches can sometimes be a bit grueling. Wonderful, but grueling. The years fly by, but some of the days and nights seem to last forever.
Part of what gets us through the long days and nights is the hope that somehow, by the grace of God, our kids will turn out to be responsible, fun, godly men and women.
And sometimes they do.
And then sometimes they stick around and you get to enjoy them. I feel incredibly blessed to have my oldest son, his wife and their two children—the cutest in the universe, by the way—close by.
But sometimes they move away, like Andy and Janine just did.
I’m a certifiable wimp when it comes to my boys. A real softy. A year ago, I stared down three occurrences of one of the scariest cancers out there – melanoma – and it didn’t hit me as hard as seeing that “Pod” moving container in front of Andy’s house ready to be hauled across the country.
My husband and I did the same thing to our parents 31 years ago when we left Indiana to move to Greenwood. It was our grand adventure and we love it here. We felt then, as we do now, that this is exactly where God wants us to be.
But I don’t want Andy and Janine to love living in California. I want them to be humming “Carolina in My Mind,” not “California, Here I Come.” I don’t want California to be exactly where they’re supposed to be, and I’ve told God so.
“There are earthquakes in California, God. And weirdos. And hardly any Chick-fil-A’s . And housing prices are insane! But, here’s the biggest thing, God: If they’re there and I’m here, it … just … hurts.”
I know God understands. Father God knows how it feels when a bigger, better plan requires a child to go to a distant land. After all, His Son, Jesus, left the glorious perfection of heaven to come to our dusty, sin-plagued earth, just to rescue us.
That’s a lot of love. And while I hate this current ache in my heart, it does remind me, maybe more profoundly than ever before, how deep God’s love for us truly is, and how very much it cost Him.
“In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him.” –1 John 4:9