We drove ten hours north through hills on fire with the pink flame of Redbuds to arrive in New York City, naked trees, and winter again. You sat in the back seat the entire way, ear buds in, farther away than all the miles that would separate us if you chose the city, if you chose the university we traveled all this way to visit. As we moved along the highway, I would reach back behind me, squeeze your leg, needing to touch you—to feel this invisible string that connects my heart to yours take flesh.
We walked. First the campus and then the city, combing up and down Fifth Avenue like we knew where we were going; our heads full of what we’d seen, what we’d heard—the talk of professors and students and taxicabs and the pushing bodies in Times Square.
I wondered what you were thinking. Could you live this kind of life? Is this what you wanted? Moments accelerated, each step taken faster than the one before, every second filled with motion? I studied your hungry face through the blur of motion.
I saw possibility.
For the first time, panic did not rise in my throat when I imagined you here. Fear did not dog my every move as I realized, you could do this. And you could do it well.
When did you become a man? It’s as if I blinked and when I opened my eyes the years have tumbled forward, lost in time. A New York minute. That’s how fast our time with you has flown. But even as I look up into eyes the same blue as my own, I know that invisible line that tethers us will never be broken.
If I haven’t said it enough, I’m proud of you, son. You make my mama heart shine. And wherever you land come fall and the beginning of this new chapter, I know you’ll do well. I believe in you and all those years of strong foundation we’ve built.
This is what it means to trust in God. To open the hand to the most precious of all we hold. This is faith.
The invisible string that tethers us all to the heart of God.
Every Monday I share one of my Playdates with God. I would love to hear about yours. It can be anything: outside, quiet time. Maybe it’s solitary. Maybe it’s loud and crowded. Just find God and know joy. Click on the button below to add your link. I try to visit a few of your stories every week, so if you are a new visitor, be sure to let me know in the comments so I can welcome you. Grab my button at the bottom of the page and join us.