Another Goodbye

My parents left yesterday ... and another goodbye at the train station was said.  I cried.

As we made our way away from the platform, the tears came freely.  My Libby held my hand and kept looking up at me ... making sure I was OK.  She's 8 and wise beyond her years.  A conversation followed that proved to hold a fingerprint of God right in the middle of it.

I was trying to explain my tears.  I was trying to communicate that when you say goodbye, it's not really the parting that brings the tears, it's the parting that will follow, the time that will pass until you see each other again.  She comforted my heart by saying that it wouldn't be too long until we saw them again.  She's right; it won't.  But then I tried to explain that when your parents are older, you never know what can happen in the "in between time":  sickness, aging, even death.  I explained that when you live close to someone, you don't notice the aging process so much ... it's gradual.  However, by living so far away, and having visits so far apart, when you see your parent, the aging process happens right before your eyes ... all at once.  The things a parent used to be able to do with little to no effort that now requires time and patience is ... well ... hard.  It's a reminder that life goes on and waits for nothing or no one.

In the middle of my words to Libby, I had unwritten messages I was hearing in my heart at the same time.  I was thinking about my own aging process.  I just celebrated my 44th birthday.  Are you kidding me?  Where did 17 go ... when I was planning a life that was yet unlived?  Where did 23 go ... when I was a young bride and worried about how big I could make my bangs?  Where did  30 go ... when I was dressing my first-born daughter up in frilly dresses?  Or 34 ... or 40?  I was projecting way into the future ... a future that had me visiting my girls and them worrying about weather or not I can make a train connection ... or an overseas flight.  My tears were for those moments that haven't happened, but most likely will ... someday.

My 8 year old looks up at me and says plainly, "Momma, you know that to God,  your parents are just like little kids ... His kids ... and then someday we will all be heaven.  Don't worry."

Of course hearing such wisdom out of the mouth of a dark-haired look alike of myself made me cry ... again.  And then, made my heart light ... and I carried a beautiful picture in  my head and heart the rest of the day.  She's right.  My parents ... me ... all are God's kids.

When train station goodbyes feel too hard to bear, heaven finds a home in my heart ... and makes me feel like skipping like a little kid.