Packing up the dreams

"Packing up the dreams God planted
In the fertile soil that is you
I can't believe the hopes He's granted
Means a chapter of your life is through."

I've always loved Michael W. Smith's song, Friends.

Change is so often bittersweet. We long for what we give up, yet we thirst for what is to come. We wave goodbye with tear-stained hands, as we reach for the promise that lies ahead.

Last Wednesday evening, I sat huddled under a blanket on Eli's bed, watching him pore through memories as he boxed up the contents of his cluttered room. He keeps his room freezing, and I am always cold in there, but that evening, I didn't mind. I wanted to be present with him. It was a moment.

We chatted about what to keep, and what to throw away. We chatted about life, and we solved world problems. We chatted about the little things, for down deep we both realize that Kurt Vonnegut spoke truth when he told us to "enjoy the little things in life, because one day you'll look back and realize they were the big things."

When kids grow up to be our best friends, there is nothing better.

He didn't throw away much. Did he throw away anything? I can't remember. Eli is sentimental. I love that about him. Everything has meaning. When I couldn't even convince him to part with his middle school P.E. t-shirt, I knew the "throwing away" part of this whole process was doomed.

I want you to know that I didn't cry. Shulamith's husband Matt once said that I have a "crying issue," and he is absolutely right. But just then, though tears were close, I didn't cry. I reflected on my deep and unwavering love for this amazing kid, my little baby not so long ago, with tiny blue eyes and a smile that would melt the world. I reflected on my hopes and dreams for his future, and I silently thanked God for one very important dream that would come true in just two days.

At some point, we left many tasks done and a few undone and went out to dinner together. We sat across from each other in a restaurant as we'd done countless times before, but this time was different. An air of excitement surrounded us. Some things were about to change, yet the important things would remain the same. For that I am so grateful.

The next two days sped by so fast I hardly remember them. Somewhere in there we had professional family photos taken, a story all its own, and one I'll tell later once the pictures are available. All I know for sure is that I blinked, and suddenly I was seated next to Eli in the temple, as he prepared to be sealed to his Amanda for time and all eternity. This time, the tears flowed. They flowed freely through each word the sealer spoke, as he taught about promises and how one special promise was being realized right then for us parents. Indeed.

It was a glorious day in every way, wrapped in love from start to finish.

Tonight I once again sat in his room, this time on the floor because he took his bed to Rexburg yesterday. Very little of him is left there, though pictures of temples still line the walls, and you can be sure those will stay right where they are. This time I definitely cried. But lest this whole muse should sound way too much like a dang eulogy, let me be clear: The tears were joyous ones. Tears of joy for the incredible person Eli is, the awesome husband I know he will be, and the loving father he will one day become.

Mostly, I cried tears of happiness for him and Amanda as they leave the chapter of their lives as singles and embark upon the wild and woolly adventure that is marriage. Can't wait to see where it will lead them.