I’m recovering from a bout of the sads. Sad that I had a nasty outbreak of poison ivy. Sad that, on top of the poison ivy, I got an equally invidious cold that I couldn’t shake for over a week. Okay, maybe “sad” isn’t the best word. “Irritated” might fit the bill better.
Still, I felt like circumstances were piling on a bit and they added up to a bit of sadness, a sense of loss. The week before, Rosalyn had gotten engaged to John. That’s a cause for real celebration in our family; however, there is a tinge of sadness that accompanies this transition. Ollie (my nickname for Rosalyn) is currently living in a house that’s only 10 minutes from our front door. And on the way into work.
I get to see her, visit with her, give her hugs, pray with her on a very regular basis. The sadness comes in that she and John just bought a house that is 30 minutes in the opposite direction. Bottom line: I’m going to be seeing her less. She’s one of the three most important people in my life.
Of course, that also means that Evan is going to be living 30 minutes in the opposite direction as well. No more stopping by first thing in the morning to wake him, to pray with him, to sing with him, or to read him a story. I tell myself, “he’s only 30 minutes away.” It feels like the moon.
So, I have been treasuring our times together. Last night, for example, we were “swimming” together in our hot tub. The heater is out, which means the hot tub is now a cold tub, and a perfect mini swimming pool for Evan and PoP!
We were splashing around, and I got something in my eye. As I rubbed my eye, I caught a glimpse of Evan looking at me with concern. And then, without my prompting, he bowed his head and said, “Dear God, please help my PoP!’s eye to feel better.” Then he looked up at me and said, “does it feel better?”
I assured him that his prayer made me feel better. It was the first time I had seen Evan pray voluntarily.
Again, as is so often the case, I find myself surprised by the kindness of the Lord. There I was, selfishly concerned about Evan’s gradual physical transition away from me. And here comes the Lord, with a reminder that a different kind of transition is taking place in Evan’s life at the same time. The Lord is drawing Evan closer to Himself.
The sadness doesn’t go away. But I am reminded with His comforting grace that even if I am not there for Evan, the Lord will be.
That’s a transition I can live with.