Done Deal 9-22

Today has been one of the hardest days of my life. Back in the '50's (?) Ray Bradbury wrote a story titled "Last Night of the World." I have stolen very liberaly his idea in this post.

It's not like it should have caught us by surprise. There had been rumblings and threats and promises made for the past year and a half. Each time I would call my friends and pray and fret and worry. And each time, after time, the threat would go away. But last spring things became different. There was more influence than before saying, "You need to get him back." So, this time, the threats became real. 

The last week...the last night...the last morning. How do you deal with those terrible milestones? I considered taking him out of school and just having the biggest Skip Day ever. I considered doing something over-the-top crazy fun. 

Know what we did? We went to school at the usual time. We read our Bible story as usual. We ate supper together as usual. I tucked him into bed as usual. 

And, last night, I followed that pattern. That is what is best for our Luke. To keep his life, which is about to go into upheaval mode, as normal as possible. 

There were lots of tears by both of us as I lay down with him last night. 

"I will always love you. If anyone tells you I don't love you, what do you say?" (It's a lie.)

"If anyone tells you that we didn't want you, what do you say?" (It's a lie.)

"You will have so much fun living with Mommy and Nick. You'll have your room and your baby sister and new friends." 

"Why does she get to decide?"

"Will I ever get to come visit?"

"Will I ever get to see the brothers?"

"If you ever visit our church, please, please, please come and find us."

"We'll see you in 13 sleeps..."

Then, after we had tucked him, Loy and I had more and more tears. My friend, Debbie, says tears get the sad out. I'm hoping so.  

"You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book."--Psalm 56:8  I don't think a bottle will do it this time...God, you'd better get a bucket.

This morning was the regular "Donut Day" for Loy and Luke. Then they were home and we sat around and waited. I'll admit, I was a coward. Ten minutes before I expected they would be here to take him from us, I said my "good byes" went for a walk. It was no wonderful, sentimental good bye. He was feeling the stress and was really ornery. He told Loy, later, that he was prickly. 

And they loaded his desk, his shelves, his table (that we uncrafty people made for him), and boxes of his stuff--much more than he came to us with--into a truck and drove away. 

I don't wish them failure. I don't wish that he becomes a juvenile delinquent because he doesn't have my influence. I don't wish him to pine away for me. 

Now, on a practical note, my way of dealing with sadness is to clean. I'm about to go reorganize Luke's bedroom and bathroom and clean it until it shines!! 

I just wish he was back in his little bed in his room. My boy. Always my boy. I love you, Luke.