11-15-2024
Another Friday is upon us. With Hannah “going off” to college this year, we were forced to admit that our “little girl” was getting older and clearly growing up. Many parents face this. It is a big step in both the lives of the student and that of the parents. There were probably two primary reasons that made this change in life difficult. The first was that, in some way, we had to acknowledge that her becoming an adult meant that we were getting older. With four children, it seems that I sort of viewed them as if they were one collective age. Somewhere in the middle of them. With this in mind, it did seem a little premature for her to be “this old”. The other side of that coin was that apparently, I too, was getting older. At church, I could talk to the college students, and although we had different lives, I still felt that I was about the same age, just maybe with a little more life experience under my belt. After all, the only real difference was that I was born sooner. As Hannah went to college, however, I began to feel that what once was a small gap between our ages, had grown considerably, and now those students were “my kids’ age”, and that means, I am “old!?”
The greater part of Hannah, “going off to college”, meant distance. Distance in her physical location and distance in, perhaps, our relationship. Although we live only about forty-five minutes from the college, that is considerably farther than her being here, in the house with us. Part of being a parent and a father is protection. Distance limits protection. We considered the possibility of her just living at home, rather than in the dorms, but felt that there was enough distance between the two places that driving likely posed more of a threat than being on campus because of things like, weather, fatigue, vehicle problems, and of course, all those other nuts on the road! Distance in physical location, however, became somewhat less significant because I knew that this is very much what she wanted to do. Like letting a bird go free, seeing Hannah, “in her natural habitat” was a beautiful thing to us. Oddly enough, the distance drew her closer. Micah (16) commented on this one day by saying, “we had to let Hannah go to bring her even closer to us”. She would call and text regularly. In fact, we spoke far more after she moved on-campus, than we did when she was here, in the bedroom across the hall. Of course we had no idea of what lay ahead, but in hindsight, it was all good. Hannah would come home on the weekends because she needed rest. With her working nights and her roommates having opposing work schedules, she found herself short on sleep. She would come home and talk-up-a-storm, debriefing us on all the things that she felt we should know. Then get a good night of sleep.
So, another Friday sunrise is about to dawn. The first Friday in which Hannah will not be coming home. Even her dog seems to be a bit melancholy. Every step forward is a step of change; steps of reminder and steps of pain. But, maybe steps of healing are actually hurdles, that once overcome, take both the memory of the past and the reality of the present, then once mixed together, they form a stronger foundation on which to stand.
Another hymn has been playing in my head. It is by Frank E. Graeff, it’s called, “Does Jesus Care?” This hymn poses both the question and answer of many who have come before me. It states: “1. Does Jesus care when my heart is pained too deeply for mirth or song; as the burdens press, and the cares distress, and the way grows weary and long? 2. Does Jesus care when my way is dark with a nameless dread and fear? As the daylight fades into deep night shades, does He care enough to be near? 3. Does Jesus care when I’ve tried and failed to resist some temptation strong; when for my deep grief I find no relief, though my tears flow all the night long? 4. Does Jesus care when I’ve said goodbye to the dearest on earth to me, and my sad heart aches till it nearly breaks – is it aught to Him? Does He see? Refrain. O yes, He cares-I know He cares, His heart is touched with my grief; when the days are weary, the long nights dreary, I know my Savior cares.
We are blessed
Hannah Helps 