Special Feature
“That was the hardest hug I’ve ever had to watch,” I sniffled as I watched Cape wrap her long arms around her mother. Hannah buried her head into Cape’s shoulder. I knew she was crying. I was too. Cape smiled as I snapped a picture and a few minutes later, we left our middle daughter, and Mississippi State University, in the rear-view mirror. The view was a bit blurred from misty eyes.
Cape is the most independent child we have raised. Bay, our oldest, is much more expressive of her emotions, and compassion is her strongest suit. Banks, our youngest, is a mixture of Cape’s independence and Bay’s compassion. And that’s not to say that Cape and Bay don’t share a glitter sprinkle of the personality of the other. They do – but their predominant traits shine through gloriously. Bay, unlike her younger sister, cried feverishly when we left her in the driveway at Martin Hall, a freshman women’s dorm on the campus at Ole Miss. It was Hannah, though, who was more reserved with her emotions that day. I cried almost uncontrollably. Curious, isn’t it? How children of the same cornfield have such different textures and flavors. And how as parents, we respond to our different children in different ways.
My mother is suffering from the beginning stages of dementia. Short-term memories are difficult, as are long-term ones. But mid-range memories- say, in the 20-year range, are still strong. A few weeks back, I shuffled through paperwork at her house looking for a document. I stumbled across a file with my name on it. I could see from the folds within that it was stuffed with newspaper articles and other memorabilia that only a mother would value. Buried deep in the fold, I found a letter I wrote to my mother in August of 1992- the day I left for the University of Montevallo. “Mother, do you remember this letter?” I asked with uncertainty. She glanced at it, and said, “I sure do. I cried the whole time I read it. And I cried for a few days after that, too.” I stammered, “I never knew.” Mother’s response was direct. “That’s because I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want my emotions to affect your experience.”
I thought of my mother, and that letter, as I watched Cape hug Hannah, and as she next hugged me. Still, though, I sniffled. “I am so proud of you,” I whispered in her ear, unable to speak for fear my voice would crack. “Thank you,” she softly responded, and she squeezed me tight. And with that, I let her go. Just like my mother once let me go. 1 John 4:9 says, “In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him.” Not that Cape is like Christ as she ventures into the world… though I pray she shows Jesus in everything she does. But rather, I can only imagine the hug God gave His Son as they said their momentary farewells. Oh, how He must love us.
-Walt Merrell
A Christian Outdoorsman who writes of his adventures with his family, with the hope that others might be inspired and encouraged to embrace God’s tapestry, otherwise known as the great outdoors, as a means of finding Common Ground. You can follow him at Shepherding Outdoors on FB, YT and IG and at shepherdingoutdoors.com. His most recent book is available at shepherdingbook.com. Read his faith story at BirminghamChristian.com.
