Twenty

Simply cannot believe

my Anna

is

twenty.

Happy Birthday, my girl!

Yesterday...My Grandma Caviness Said It Well

In 1959 and at 18 years old,

my daddy moved out of his parents’ house

to start college as a freshman.

It so happens that I now live in that same house.

And my almost 20 year old daughter

moved out of that very same house yesterday

to transfer as a junior into “sleep away” college.

She will now travel her own path.

In her own way.

It’s what I want for my Anna.

Yet…

…I will admit that when Anna wasn’t in her room the other day,

I crawled into her bed,

hugged her baby blanket,

and cried for an hour.

Many emotions have gone through my mind today

ranging from missing her

to being very excited for her. 

After all, THIS has always been my goal.

As I’ve said before,

my parenting style has always been to work myself out of a job.

To prepare my children,

AT the best of MY ability and

TO the best of THEIR abilities,

with the skill sets necessary

to be independent,

fully-engaged,

self-sufficient,

servant-leader,

contributing members of society.

Yet…

…I will admit that

before Anna was fully awake yesterday,

I crawled into her bed,

put my arms around her,

and cried for 30 minutes.

The boys, Anna, and I had a great day yesterday.

The day was full of fun and excitement –

getting her settled into her dorm room,

walking around her campus,

going out to eat dinner

getting ice cream,

and walking her back to her dorm.

And even though I did tear up a couple of times,

I didn’t even cry until the very end of the day…

…when I had to hug her goodbye and leave her there.

It just seems it all happened in a blink…

…from the first moment I kissed her little newborn face

to the moment I had to leave her yesterday.

I know I will be okay but

this “leaving and letting go” thing is difficult

and I’m left to question,

as all other parents have done before me,

“JUST WHERE DID THE TIME GO?”

In 1959, my Grandma Caviness

wrote down how she felt

about my daddy leaving home.

Tonight,

while sitting in the same house

that both my daddy and my daughter,

57 years apart,  

moved out of to go to college,

reading her poem 
takes on a fresh new meaning for me.

My Grandma Caviness said it well:

 Elizabeth Caviness 1959

SEPTEMBER

I gazed into his room

And found it, oh so bare!

It held so much just yesterday;

Today there’s mostly air.

A bed, a desk and shelves;

Pencils too short to use.

So little to show for eighteen years;

Today he left for school.

Too many places set at the table;

Some extra chores to do;

This emptiness deep down inside---

I guess my heart went, too.

The Experience Is On

Dear Rob, Just Wishing...

Dear Rob,

I wish you were here.

I don’t sit around wishing that very often.

At almost 5 years into you being gone,

I know wishing it usually just makes it worse.

But tonight, right now, I am wishing it.

I am wishing you were here.

Our teenage sons are in the living room playing a game together and, for who knows what reason, they are singing a song from Sponge Bob.  With one really deep voice and one “getting there but not quite as deep” voice, they are belting out this song with zeal as they play a video game.  Their voices joining together as they are playing and singing without a care in the world made (and is making) my heart smile and it would yours too.

Our Anna is in her room packing up to move out of the house.

She leaves for college in 2 days (1 day by the time this posts).

She is going through her things – deciding what to take and what not to take.

Pondering just how much stuff can fit into that tiny dorm room.

Washing clothes one last time for free.

Planning her last steps to living independently from her mother

after already having been forced by your death to live independently from you.

I wish you were here for her.

To help carry her stuff into her dorm room as you did for her older sister.

To tell her how proud you are and how excited you are for her.

To give her a parent speech about holding true to her values

and to keep on loving Jesus more than anything else – EVER.

To tell her goodbye and tell her you love her.

To try unsuccessfully to hold back your tears as we start to walk away from her dorm.

Then to turn and hug her yet again and tell her you love her and always will.

(Even though you were a Duke fan, you would have proudly worn this shirt)!

I wish you were here for me.

To remember with 

– things about our Anna that only you and I experienced 

– memories that only you and I shared.

To be excited for our girl with.

To laugh and be grateful with that at least Anna’s not on the 10^th floor like Crystol was!

To be sad with.

To come home without her with.

To cuddle up to in bed with as we spend the first night without her living in our house.

To miss her with.

It’s just incredibly hard doing this without you.

It’s just incredibly sad doing this without you.

I don’t want to walk through this weekend alone.

If throwing myself on the floor kicking and screaming 

and pitching a temper tantrum fit could bring you back
for this weekend, 

I would be doing it.

But it won’t.

So I will do what I’ve been doing for almost 5 years now.

With God’s strength, I will parent alone.

I will get her moved in – with the help of her brothers.

I will give the last minute speeches.

I will be excited for her as she starts on this new part of her journey
for her junior and senior years of college.

I will tell her how proud of her I am and how proud you would have been.

I will tell her how much you loved her and how much I do.

I will give her some money.

I will hug her goodbye as I, again, tell her I love her.

And as I walk away from that dorm, 

I will not even try to hold back the tears.

Because I will be missing you both.

Love,

Janna 

9 Days

In 9 days, my Anna leaves for “sleep away” college.

She’s been ready to go since she was 2.

Since I homeschooled her, I was blessed with extra time with her.

And since she lived at home while completing her Associate Degree at a community college, 

I was even blessed with 2 extra years of time with her.

As I said, she’s been ready since she was 2.

I am SO proud of her and SO excited for her!

 But I don’t know that I ever will be ready.

"Luke, Luke, Son Of The Man From Duke"

I started babysitting at a very young age.

I kept the church nursery when I was 12

(and unofficially before then).

I was a daycare worker while in college.

I am an elementary school teacher and taught school until Anna was born.

I had a home day care when Anna was a baby, providing care for 5 babies very close in age.  

I had to learn how to calm and care for 5 babies at the same time.

It was like having quintuplets for 10 hours a day.

When Luke was born, I was almost 35 years old.

I had lots of experience with children by that time.

And Luke was my youngest.

So I thought I had this infant thing down pat.

But from the very first moment Luke was born,

I found out that I had no idea. 

I very soon realized that I had a lot of learning to do

and a lot of “just getting through it” to come.

Luke came into the world crying loudly and he did not stop.

During his very first night in our world,

Rob and I looked at each other in wonderment at this new baby son of ours.

We were so thankful and felt so very blessed!

Born healthy at almost 10 pounds (9 lbs. 12 ounces to be exact),
Luke was nursing well.

He had all 10 fingers and all 10 toes.

Everything was as it was supposed to be. 

He was just perfect!
And we were beyond thrilled!

But he would NOT stop crying.

He did stop the loud crying unless he was hungry or hurting

 but the fuss/crying kept on.

For almost a year!

On that very first night, I looked over at Rob after the first few hours and said,

“Pretty sure this one’s going to be different.”

And how right I was!

Luke cried all of the time.

Or what seemed like all of the time.

He was not happy with just being held.

Unless someone was holding him

AND

actively engaging with him,

he cried and fussed.

He was only satisfied when he held our attention...

…our UNDIVIDED attention!

Which was difficult since I was homeschooling Anna (1^st grade)

and Wesley was only 2 ½.

(Side note here is that even though it was so very difficult, 
I now look on those days as the good old days 
and I treasure the memories).

During those first few months of Luke’s infancy, we tried everything.

Swaddling, not swaddling.

Nursing on demand, nursing more on a schedule.

Altering my diet to remove any foods that might be upsetting his stomach.

Gas drops.

Swings, car rides, bouncy seats, stroller rides.

Comforting him when he cried, letting him cry it out some.

And on and on and on.

All while in a constant state of prayer.

But nothing seemed to work.

So we buckled down for the long haul.

Learned to live without sleep.

We loved our boy.

We adapted.

And we sang.

It’s the one thing that would somewhat calm his fussing.

So we latched onto that and worked it to the utmost of our ability!

While holding Luke, we were constantly singing and humming and walking around 

bouncing up and down to try and soothe our son.

Maybe we were even trying to soothe ourselves.

We did sing songs that were already written but the vast majority of them were “sing-songy” songs made up on the spot – full of nonsense phrases or what we would normally be just saying to each other or to the older children.

There’s one song that’s famous in our little family that I made up one day when I just felt like I could not take it any more.  I was in our parsonage living room trying to get Luke to stop crying.  

I had been walking around with him but had given up and just sat down.
I was tired.  So very tired.

  I looked out of the window, saw a tree, and made up this song:

“Mercy, mercy me.  I think I’ll climb a tree.

I think I’ll climb up high to see what I can see.

Mercy, mercy me.  I think I’ll climb a tree.

I think I’ll climb up high to see what I can see.”

Anna later added another verse to this song and

it is now a family classic anytime we are feeling nostalgic or stressed!

Last night, though, there was a song that Rob made up for Luke that came to mind when I got an email from our preacher and that song, as it always has, made me smile.

The preacher was sending an email about Luke’s confirmation class today.

He was informing us that they (among other activities) are taking a field trip to

Duke Divinity School today. 

This certainly isn’t Luke’s first trip to Duke.  We’ve been there many times.  But it has been over 6 years since we've been and it is his first time there since his dad died.  Luke would have been around 7 years old the last time we went so he doesn’t remember much about it.

In the crying days of Luke’s infancy,

there was a song that Rob made up about his years in seminary

at Duke Divinity School that was just for his Luke.

The song had so many versions and verses about papers and tests and sermons and commuting and focus groups and professors and graduation weekend

that there’s no way for me to remember them all.

Truthfully, the verses were never the same.

What did stick, though, and what was always the same was the chorus:

“Luke, Luke,

son of the man from Duke.

Luke, Luke,

son of the man from Duke.

Luke, Luke,

son of the man from Duke.

Luke, Luke, Luke,

son of the man from Duke.”

I certainly picked up on this song and sang it to Luke too.

Because original material and rights of ownership

had no meaning at all

when it came to getting Luke to stop crying!
And I loved both the son and the man from Duke!

But this song.

It was really their thing.

Rob’s and Luke’s.
And I loved hearing it!

And that was my first thought yesterday when I got the email from our preacher.

My Luke, the son of the man from Duke, was going to visit his dad’s alma mater.

Luke thought of it too.

Since he knew he had to get up early today, he got everything together last night.

He even got his clothes together.

But this morning, exactly one minute before walking out of the door,

he ran back to his room and changed shirts.

He was wearing one of his dad’s shirts.

And as wrinkled as that shirt was, I just grinned and took some photos.

Luke was very excited to be going to Duke today.

And this time, he will remember it.

This time, the first time there since Rob’s death, it will mean even more.

Today, my boy gets to go for a short visit to a beautiful college which holds so much of our 

Methodist tradition and history.

He gets to be with the other members of his confirmation class as they learn more about Duke.  They get to walk around the Divinity School and maybe even go to Duke Gardens and the stadium and such.  He will get to see the massive and impressive Duke Chapel.  And I’m sure my Luke will notice all of the wonderful and artistic design and architecture.

But for my Luke,

who has a hard time remembering his dad since he was so young when his dad died,

today is also about walking the paths and hallways that his father walked

and being in a place that holds so much of his father’s tradition and history.

And,

even though Luke has proven from the very first moment he was alive

that he will be his own person who marches to the beat of his own drum,

today will be a pilgrimage of sorts into his dad’s past

and

touching base with what it felt like to be his son.

After all, he is

“Luke, Luke,

 the son of the man from Duke.” 

(Rob walking in Duke Gardens)

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Luke sent me all of these photos today so what follows is Luke's view of his day at Duke!
I love it!

Still My Hero

He is 75 today.

The caretaking role has been reversed

for a good, long while now.

But my daddy is still my hero!