Letter to Kami Rose (college drop off for Junior Year)...

Kami Rose (a.k.a. – Light of my Life),

Well, they say the third time’s a charm and this is the 3^rdtime we’ve dropped you off at the beginning of another year of college.  It hardly seems possible that it was only two short years ago that everything was a first, literally everything.

But that’s what you’ve always done, many times without knowing it.  You’ve gone first.  You’ve had to navigate the choppy waters without anyone to consult about what’s coming next and how to prepare.  No forerunner for you.  You just push off the safety of the shoreline and bob up and down on the whelming waves and live out in the dicey deep, figuring it out as you go.  Then your sisters get to follow in your wake with a pretty good idea of what they are in for.  We continue to look past this pattern, but it’s apparent now.  You are the trailblazer and pathfinder.  I love that about you.

You probably don’t consider yourself to be the one who deals well with danger and unknowns, but that’s where you’ve found yourself for most of your life all the way back to your childhood.  I know that you have an adventurous spirit and that you love meeting strangers at a good party, but this is different.  This is the uncharted waters of the future that you are leaning into without anyone’s frame of reference to help you orient yourself.  For your sisters, you’ve always gone first…you’ve been their frame of reference to learn from your mistakes and perspectives and little tricks you’ve learned along the way.  It doesn’t mean it’s a cakewalk for them, but it isn’t anywhere near as hard as it was for you.  Even Aly is starting her first year of college with her older sister a sidewalk away. In the same major. With a car. And books and notes and intel on teachers that all she has to do is simply ask you about. You’re the frame of reference. You always have been.

It hit me yesterday and even though I’ve thought about it before, it never really hit me how significant this easily overlooked aspect of your life really is. And I’ve seen it forge you into a sharp sword in the hand of God.  I’ve watched you face giants and hit walls and dig yourself out of pits with nothing but hope to hold you. No guarantees telling you there aren’t any more giants around the bend, nobody telling you the wall is the first of two more in the next two days, nobody telling you that they fell into the same hole last year and that it’s the last big one you’ll face for the rest of the year. Nope.  You encounter each obstacle and you fight.  You fight for your life without anything but grit and guts and grind fortifying your insides.  I know you’ve spent many nights studying deep into the night and then going to bed only to wake up in a cold-sweat to go over your notes again—just in case.  You don’t know if you need to, you don’t know if what you’re studying will even be on the test for sure, but that’s the thing, anyone who goes first faces nearly everything blind with nothing but dauntless courage to propel them forward.  You’ve done this over and over and over again.  In college..and in life.  It’s formed someone who is ready to face challenges in the future.  

“She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future.” (Proverbs 31:25) That’s you.  Not because you want it to be, but because you’ve had no choice. And it’s not like you have no apprehensions or anxieties, but you’ve faced so many fears and overcome them that you begin to laugh when you see the next one telling you, “But it’s different this time; this time you’re going down.” It’s easier to look fear in the eye and say, “You said that last time—and the time before that—and the time before that…is that all you got?”  I’m watching you clothe yourself in strength and dignity now instead of sorrow and dread.  Not because you still don’t get afraid—we all do—but you’ve learned how to do things afraid…and overcome.  I wrote a letter to Fear that might come in handy for you this year when it comes knocking at your door—and it will:

_________________________

Dear Fear,

I have stopped asking you to leave only to become more fearful when you don’t. I will no longer empower you with such wasteful and wishful thinking. I have come to terms with your presence and it’s changing the way I view my relationship with you. 

If the Lord has promised to prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemy, then I shall feast in your face. I’m ok with you being in the room as long as you’re ok watching me eat my fill of God’s abundance, drinking deep of a cup that keeps running over with his extravagance.

Pardon me if I don’t pay attention to you when you’re talking, it’s just that I’ve started listening to the voice at the head of the table where my Father sits. He isn’t as loud as you are, but I’ve learned you don’t have to yell when you’re telling the truth. His still, small voice seems less scared and desperate than yours.

I wish you would leave me alone, but on the other hand your presence reminds me of my purpose and so I guess if I can’t lose you, I’ll just use you. You will be my alarm clock stirring me to wake up and pray. Every prayer will tune me in to my Father’s frequency. Your presence will be slowly be swallowed up by His presence. Your voice will be eventually be drowned out by His voice.

After a while, I’m hoping you will lose your voice. But at the very least, just know that your voice has lost its power.

Sincerely, 

Kami Rose

__________________________

I don’t know if that will help you this year as much as it does me on certain days, but I thought I’d pass it along to you so that you could see how I navigate fear when it crouches at my door—laughing at it without living in denial of it.  It’s not always easy, but it helps me to forge forward when I feel paralyzed in place.

Well, I just wanted to leave you this note to let you know that I’m just as proud of you the third year as the first year I dropped you off.  I’m just as sad to separate ways and leave your beautiful presence.  I’m just as sad to make the trip home without you and to walk by your vacant bedroom that is usually glowing with your draped lights as you sit in your orange chair in the back right corner. But my sadness is overcome with pride in a hurry.  Pride in who you’ve become and who you’re becoming.  Pride in how you’ve blossomed in your studies and proven that you’re not just average, you’re smart—darn smart.  Pride that you keep facing firsts and kicking butt like a Holdridge would. 

Every time I leave you, I leave a part of that Holdridge Heartbeat behind, and that does my heart good. Because that spirit beats hard in you, kid.  It makes me proud that you’re my firstborn, the first impression of what one of my children looks like and acts like and responds like and loves like.  Keep taking the Holdridge Heartbeat to the world that needs it so badly.  I love you, Kami Rose, and though I will miss you, you’re too special to keep for myself. You’re meant to be shared.

Slay, Girl, Slay…

Your Dad