Untying the tether

When I got home from the glorious wedding, the least favorite part of any journey awaited. The unpacking. I hate the unpacking so much that I am almost willing to just throw all the unpacked suitcases in the trash and begin the needed decluttering of our home. But instead, I began the rather depressing task of putting away the 95% clean items I packed and never needed, and the 5% that had to go in the wash which were all I needed to pack in the first place. As this always happens, you would think I'd learn, but no, "Be prepared" is one of my guiding principles and I pack accordingly. I thought of how my son, Matt and Karissa were now off to the honeymoon, to a new life, and I had to try to not interfere, ever. I wasn't even their Facebook friends, though I asked them a few weeks ago if I could be. They never answered. It is fine, I thought, it is the lot of mothers.

As I unpacked, I reflected on some of the highlights of the week. One of the unexpected joys had been towing my niece Caroline in a kayak.  At age 5, she was too young to paddle a kayak alone and I had no tandem kayaks. She watched the others from shore as we left on our kayak jaunts on Smith Mountain Lake, and told me one morning as she walked with me, "I'd like to go in a boat."  I realized that perhaps I could tow her in a kayak tied to mine, at least a little ways. I gave her a paddle and some lessons, and off we went. As it turned out, it was not nearly as hard as I thought it would be and Caroline became my faithful kayak buddy the whole week. We were able to kayak far and long. I gave her a duck caller we keep stashed with the kayak wet bags, and she would happily honk at geese as we chased them across the lake. Sometimes she would paddle. Often she would rest. On our last day of kayaking, she told me she was tired, and at first didn't think she would accompany me. Then, she changed her mind, and at the last moment, decided she would go. She never dipped her paddle in the lake. Instead she lay down in the kayak and I towed her around the lake while she rested her head on one arm and trailed the other in the water.

It is such a picture of motherhood. There is a season when the mother is putting forth all the effort. Saying all the words the child will one day utter, modeling all the behavior the child will someday adopt, guiding in all the life skills the child will one day need. At first, the child just lays back and watches. One day she will take a paddle and occasionally offer an independent stroke of the oar. Ultimately she will captain the kayak alone. That is the day the mother unties the tether, and watches prayerfully as the child paddles to the horizon, the sun casting rays of gold and sparkle across her shoulders.

I finished unpacking, tired and a little dispirited. You know how it is after the rush of adrenalin and joy at momentous events. I went to the computer to begin downloading the hundreds of photos I had taken. As the screen lit up, there was a message from Facebook. Matthias and Karissa Kaseorg had just accepted my request to be their friend on Facebook. They had done so early the morning after the marriage. They had taken the time and effort and thought to grant me this gift of love and acceptance on the break of their first full day of married life together.

Sometimes as children first paddle to the horizon, they wave an oar in the distance, and the mother waves back.

Genesis 40:14

¹⁴ But when all goes well with you, remember me and show me kindness