Transition

"Ulie's crying, " Bill remarked sleepily at 6:55 a.m.

It was already well past sunrise and we could hear the sound of plastic trash bin bottoms scraping against the driveways. Bill got out of bed and trekked beyond the other side of our room, past the front room, across the dining room, and through part of the living room to Ulie's room.

Ulie's room. Burgundy curtains block out most of the sunlight. His crib is tucked into a corner. His little table with metal basket style drawers sits closeby. Quackums, Love Monkey, and other fuzzy friends are there with him. A small twin bed is available for a parent/child sleepover if necessary. Mom made sure of it.

Both Elizabeth and Murron made the transition to their own rooms at approximately the same age. A few nights of adjustment was all they needed and they settled in to their own quarters like good little troops. All my questions of, "What if I don't hear him crying?" or "Is he going to be warm enough?" have already been answered by his older sisters. Ulie will be fine.

Will I be fine? Knowing this is just the beginning of letting him go, yes, I will be fine. I will be fine when he stays with a babysitter for the first time. When he has his first sleepover I will remain intact. When he leaves for a weekend or more doing whatever God calls him to do I will live. And when he is gone from here although part of me will go with him, God will gather me close to Himself, cradle my heart, and soothe me to peaceful unworried rest.

Glory