Holding a Bird Analogy in Your Own Hands

Well, here we are! Yesterday our oldest daughter graduated from high school in the sweetest, most unique ceremony I’ve ever attended! Every aspect of it was graduate-focused, the students made the decisions, and each of them was representing themself as an individual. They all were free to wear a cap and gown of their choosing—some of the girls decorated their caps! One girl wore an orange tie-dye cap and gown set! I, who went through parochial schools, never would have considered all of this variation and individualism as a possibility in a group graduation, but nothing about this ceremony of home-educated graduates was streamlined or standardized; it was a celebration of each of these students, recognized before their family and friends, introduced by their parents who gave them their diplomas, and this was the first graduation I’ve ever attended where the lady in charge actually told the kids WHEN to throw their hats, rather than emphasizing “DO NOT THROW YOUR HATS” and all the students throwing them anyway. I’m telling you, this thing was so fun. So happy. I was delighted to have been a part of it.

And now it’s over. Now we have a high school graduate, a legal adult, and though she’s late to the game, also as of last week, a licensed driver. So much growth and change in such little time! I’m immensely grateful for my family and friends who are steps ahead of me on this—my sister-in-law who bought Anja a gift of towels and a shower caddy filled with toiletries, my friends who have already navigated the first drop-off-at-college heartache and now are looking around the corner to college graduation happening sooner than we realize. I’m surrounded by people who have entered the worlds beyond where I am—their children are in adult romantic relationships! Some of my friends are grandparents! Being the youngest in my family it’s always been easy to feel like a baby, but in these cases it’s a great reminder of how fast things move, and how important it is to enjoy what you have when you have it, before this moment in time vaporizes into a memory.

So, now Martin and I wander hesitantly into the next realm of parenthood, that weird phase where the children begin to fly. It feels kind of awkward! Next year we’ll be graduating another daughter; They’ll be leaping from the nest in quick succession now. Wild.

Today after church we took a little picnic to a new park in our area. On the walk from our car to the park, we witnessed a parent Killdeer very distressed because three of her babies were in the street. They were tiny, tiny babies who clearly had fallen off the curb and couldn’t get back up. Trusting nature, we walked on for our picnic and playground play, and hoped for the best. However, awhile later, we walked back to the car for a waterbottle and shoes, and the babies were still in the street. It was clear they weren’t going to be able to hop up on the high curb, and now traffic was picking up. Elka and Greta chased one out of the middle of the road as a truck drove through, while Anja kept one contained on the far side of the street. Finally, she picked it up and brought it back to the other side where the mother was; she placed it in the grass, and it ran toward where I assume their nest was, in a field. Elka, meanwhile was able to help the others up into the grass as well. They were all okay. None of them got run over by vehicles, and they were returned to their grassy meadow and parents. (“Grassy meadow” is a romanticized description; it’s a field of dead grass and rock because of all the construction that’s been going on in that area for so long. Perfect for killdeer, but not so picturesque!) We felt so happy that we had helped them. (Note: it's ok to help killdeer when they are in danger, even newly hatched ones! Their parents won’t reject them afterward.)

There’s an analogy of some sort there, as so often is the case. Anja, making a packing list for August, preparing to go to orientation at her new college in a couple of weeks, dividing clothes among her sisters, and feeling excited and nervous about the approach of this fall which will bring an entirely new experience to her, Anja helped this helpless newly hatched bird out of peril; the little bird had made a mistake and needed to get back to its parents. It had just come into this new existence and without realizing the danger ahead, it fell right into it. In this case, Anja was the helper, but I hope she sees that she might be the baby bird at some point in her life, and if she is (when she is) I hope that she can accept the help offered to her instead of just running herself into exhaustion or danger all alone, and I especially hope she knows that it’s always okay to come back to the nest. I am not unlike a killdeer in my franticness and screeching, let’s be honest, and also like them, I will always be here to trundle her back to safety whenever she needs it.