For the last two weeks, I have watched on Facebook as many of the teens I have known since they were barely potty trained, begin life on their own in a college dormitory. Pinterest and Target have made the dorm room experience post-worthy for sure, as the pictures make me want to redecorate my own home with cute bulletin boards and new throw pillows. I am excited for these sweet kids because I remember the exhilaration I had when I went off to college for the first time. And let’s be honest, college memories truly do last a lifetime. If my husband has to sit through my college bestie Karen and I, relive our adventures one more time, he may leave me.
Having college-ready kids comes with a feeling of accomplishment, as parents finally get to pat themselves on the back for all those nights of homework help and the carpooling that never ended. It is exciting for parents to see the babies that they nurtured making adult decisions. But I have also sat with a couple of mama’s who, after the excitement of the big move, have felt some of the emptiness that comes when one realizes this change is real. My friend Tammy shared that move in day was so busy and fun that she was able to hold it together. However, what really got her was when she began cleaning her house the next day, there was no toothpaste in her daughter’s sink and no clothes thrown everywhere. It was then that she lost it.
From where I sit, in the home with toothpaste still in the sink and clothes still thrown all over the floor, it is easy to say that I will be excited for my girls to launch into college life next Fall. They seem so ready to take on a bigger life challenge. I will admit, however that the other day, I looked over at my Emilee and had this inkling of how strange it will be without her in the house everyday and shared with her that I would miss her. She laughed, just a little too loud in my opinion, and said, “Oh mom, you know you are going to be that mom that “pops” (she did air quotes right here) in to your kids’ college all the time!” Oh no! Maybe I am not as ready as I thought for the transition that is coming like the speed of sound.
Some life transitions are forced upon us and we respond the best we can in the given 
situation. Other transitions are more planned or come with a scheduled regularity that allows us to anticipate and prepare for a healthier transition. While it may be more enjoyable to acknowledge some transitions than others, whether you are facing a child going to college, a child getting married, a job change, a move, a divorce, or the death of an aging parent, transitions can be supported when we prepare our hearts for what is to come.
The weekend of my mother’s passing remains to this day, one of the sweetest memories of my family when it was whole. My mother had been placed on hospice and we were given instructions for what to expect and how to experience her last moments. It was one of the most spiritually healthy things we have done as siblings, as we gathered, shared, prayed and spoke words over our precious mamacita. I remember though, that my father was not able, although present with us, to accept the transition that was inevitable. He resisted the preparation and while understandable, it made his grief almost unbearable for him when he was genuinely surprised by her passing.
Both exciting and painful transitions are part of everyone’s life experience. It was so helpful that hospice provided some guidelines for those with a passing loved one. And while it did not take away the pain of the transition, it allowed those involved to transition well. I hope to learn from that experience and transition with grace because I am preparing my heart in advance for the inevitable. I am going to fully experience this year by participating wholeheartedly in my children’s high school “lasts”, share with them of the pride I feel with who they have become, pray with them for their continued growth and speak words of blessing over them. In just a year, I will join the ranks of mamas who come home to the eery quiet and the rooms that stay clean but lack the bubbling life of growing, maturing children. I will mourn, for sure, but I intend to transition well. And I might just “pop in” a few too many times in the next four years.