A few hours earlier, I rolled out of bed at 3:15am and into the shower. My mother-in-law had knee replacement surgery a few days before, and Kara and the kiddos were flying to Atlanta to help Kathy with her recovery. While I am all about my kiddo seeing her grandparents as much as possible, I was a little bemused at the thought of nurse Kate taking care of Marmee. Having been the subject of my three year old daughter's "care," I can easily tell you that while she has good intentions, she's a long way from fulfilling any form of the Hippocratic Oath. All that aside, I loaded the luggage, changed Jake's diaper, loaded his car seat, and everyone climbed in for the ride to Love Field.
The weather was good, traffic was clear, and I was confident we would arrive in plenty of time for my family to check in, make it through security, and board the plan. Surely a Thursday morning 6 am flight couldn't be that full! As we drove towards the airport, traffic slowly became heavier. By the time we turned into Love Field, it was bumper-to-bumper, with a wreck in the way. The adults in the truck were sweating it a little, but Kate was her usual happy-go-lucky self, not worried about a thing. (Ah, the life of a three year old.) Since we were late, we decided to splurge and use the valet parking right by the ticket counter. We pulled up, valets came running, and we deposited kids, luggage, stroller and carseats on to the curb. We walked into the terminal, and I began to worry a little bit because the ticket counter lines were loooong.
Playing it cool, we hopped in line, and thanks to Southwest Airlines' great customer service, within a few moments or so we stood in front of a smiling clerk. After the customary greeting and a few questions, she looks at me and asks, "Would you like an escort pass, Mr. Holmes?" I thought they had stopped allowing escort passes, so I was a little surprised. Thinking of the small pocketknife in my pocket (where else?) plus every conspiracy theorist horror story about being held by the TSA for days with only water and a granola bar, I stammered a little bit while my wife looked at me expectantly. Being my chivalrous married-for-six-years-self, I said, "No thanks, I can't today." Kara looked surprised, and asked, "Why not?" My mind immediately thought, "Holy cow, woman, when your habitually pistol packing, knife carrying husband declines the escort pass in the airport, YOU GO WITH IT." My lips said, "Well.....I need to get to work and traffic was heavy...." The clerk said, "Oh, you have a pocketknife? Just leave it here and you can get it on your way out." Problem solved. (WELCOME TO TEXAS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.)
My pass was printed, and we headed to security, only to run into another LONG LINE. (Surprise!) I could tell Kara was a little anxious, and my mind was racing as I wondered what other contraband I could possibly have on me. Even though I had nothing on me but my wallet, glasses, and hearing aids, I still had this nervous fear. I guess I have a guilty conscience or something, but I always get nervous going through security. Meanwhile, Kate is wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, excited about flying on a plane and seeing her Marmee and Gramps. The agent in the pre-pass line waves to us, calling us forward from the rear of the line because we had little ones, and put us right through. I was waiting for all sorts of questions about why my boarding pass was blank, where I was travelling, etc... and for them to whisk us away to a small room with no windows and 1 bare bulb for the bottles of formula in the baby bag. (I think I saw one too many movies like Enemy of the State when I was growing up.) Every agent was super nice and really helpful, helping us get all the carry-on luggage and kiddos through with no problem. I have never had a bad experience with airport security, but I have to say that when we were through I thought to myself, "That was the best trip through security I've had. I'm taking the kids along every time!"
We stopped for moment to put our shoes and belts back on and gather everything up. We realized we had time to grab breakfast before Kara and the kids boarded. Kara went to Whataburger, but the Princess wanted Chick-fil-a, so Daddy took her to Chick-Fil-A. Surprisingly, the line moved slowly and we had to wait long enough that Kate became antsy. (They say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and my daughter inherited my metabolism, which means she gets hangry.) Kara walked up, and Kate was standing (standing being a relative term) about 6 feet away from me when she tripped herself, fell down, jumped up, and said, "Daddy, don't push me!" Speaking of apples and trees, my parents still laugh and tell stories about me as a little kid doing the same thing many times. I haven't done that as an adult, so Kate couldn't have learned it from me, which is an argument (albeit a small one) for nature versus nurture. Either way, I almost fell down myself when she said that.
In the midst of this, they called my name and we picked up Kate's order. Mind you, we were watching the clock and could see that our gate had begun boarding. Kate was extremely concerned about drinking her orange juice so Kara handed it to her. We entered the boarding area, and a Southwest attendant saw us, came over, and waved us to the front of the line. (Another reason to love Southwest and travelling with little ones.) As we hit the jetway entrance, I pictured a nice goodbye consisting of hugs and kisses from my wife and daughter. The ideal is often not reality, however, and when we walked up to the desk Kate jumped from her stroller, orange juice in hand, and helped Kara present her boarding pass to be scanned. I stood there in shock, arm outstretched waving goodbye, as my little girl strolled through the jetway door without so much as a look back. My Daddy heart was breaking, and I managed to say, "Bye Kate! Daddy loves you!" as she disappeared around the corner. Kara hurriedly gave me a smooch as I tried to hug Jake and moved off to catch up with Kate. Just like that, I was alone.
Being the introspective soul that I am, all this occurred in slow-mo, and what I saw as a Kate strolled jauntily off into the wild blue yonder was an image of my little girl 15 years from now, flying off to the other side of the globe with barely a goodbye for dear old Dad. As I walked back through the terminal I had this turmoil inside of me. Part of me was torn that my daughter was so independent, but the other part of me was horrified at the thought that she might have run halfway down the jetway, turned to look for me, realized that I hadn't followed her in and wasn't going on the flight, then broke down crying. The agony of being a girldad is frightfully heavy at times. (Not "girlydad", but "girldad.") (I'm coining that term, by the way.)
I strolled on through the terminal, past the exit, the baggage claim, and out to my truck, as the crowds swept past me going the other way. I thought to myself, "Parenting is tough. It's not for sissies, but for the bold, the determined, and the courageous. Especially when you have a little girl." Somewhere, I have seen a quote that says "There's no experience in the world like having a child. It's like having your heart walk around outside your body." That is capital "T" truth! It hasn't been so bad having a little girl, but this past year is killing me, and the following years will do so in even greater detail. But it's worth every heartache I can ever have. Watching my little one, I can see the woman she is going to be. Strong, independent, and beautiful, just like her Mom.
I'll spend the rest of my life letting go of my little girl as she matures and becomes an adult. That vision will spur me on, keep me going, providing experiences and challenges for her through these next two decades. Because I can see the end of the process. That's why God can look at us, with all of our miserable, selfish ways, and take delight in us. (If you're His child.) Because he knows what we'll eventually become and can see the end result, even when it angers him, saddens him, and breaks him in two emotionally. Romans 8:28 says, "For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers."
Earlier, in Romans 1, Paul describes humanity's sin, noting how men turned from worshiping their creator and began to worship parts of creation. He wrote that God gave men over to their worthless minds, to do what is morally wrong. To sin over and over again, defiling creation, degrading the dignity of other humans, and continually rejecting God. It is easy to ask how a loving God could allow this to happen. Because, in creating men in his image, he gave them knowledge and choice. In his infinite knowledge, God knew that some would turn back to him, and regain the image they were made in. In Paul's wordiness, he takes several chapters to conclude his thoughts begun in Romans 1, but he eventually does. He notes that all have sinned, and acknowledges that he, like his readers, still struggles with sin. But he, being one who submitted his life to Jesus, will be made into his likeness, regaining his full humanity! That's why he could write Romans 8! God rejoices in his children, because he knows the end result!
Fast forward almost exactly one week from Kate strolling onto the jetway without so much as a wave goodbye. I stood right at the line of the security barrier, watching as groups of people walked down the terminal towards the baggage claim. Every time I saw a woman with a stroller and diaper bag, my soul gave a little leap, then sank as I realized that it wasn't my family. Finally, after watching what seemed like droves of people walk by, I saw Kara pushing a stroller in a group. I jumped up and down, waving my arms in the air, not caring that I looked a little foolish. I saw Kara wave and point, then heard, "Daddy!" and the patter of little feet running on the tile floor. Kate burst out of the group and dashed toward me while I waited at the barrier, arms open wide. She hit me at a full run, and I scooped her up, glad to have her and my family back home. I had let her go a week before, knowing she would return. The moment we recognized one another, it was a race to be reunited. Letting go is always worth the reunion!
God has let you go. When your journey concludes, will you be running towards him? Better yet, will he recognize you? I hope so!
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