The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; Indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me. ~ Psalm 16:6 nasb

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Waiting, and the Big News

Time to Fly, Part Six -- May 10.

Thomas started his day with orientation, and Fernando and I returned to the beach to wait.  It was a gorgeous day (is there not a gorgeous day at the beach?), and we spent our time alternately swimming or sunning.


I ended up leaving my glasses in the beach bag at one point, and as Fernando and I were out during low tide, pelicans started flying into our area.  More and more, they flew around and over us, floating just feet away!  Some dived down into the water in search of fish, while more and more flew in.  It was amazing!

I took this photo right after we got out of the water:


Then, Thomas called--his orientation was over.  We headed back toward town; Thomas met us at our hotel, and we went out for a celebratory meal.  He wanted a decent photo of himself, and after several attempts, he approved.  I texted it to him, and he posted it on Facebook with his news:

So...........
I have been accepted into the BMW Service Technician Education Program (STEP) in Orlando, Florida. The program is 4 months long and my parents helped me move into my apartment where I'll be staying for the duration of my classes.
So there it was.  It's a pretty big deal--one of only 14 students in their program, paid by BMW, furthering his career in the auto technician field.  I'm still rather in awe of this amazing young man.


After our meal, we drove back to our hotel.  Thomas hung out for a little bit, then got in his car and drove away to his hotel.  That was the hardest goodbye, knowing I probably wouldn't see him until the end of summer, so far away from us.


I took this photo the day before, after we had helped Thomas move in to his apartment.  As we were pulling out of the apartment complex parking lot, I snapped a phone picture of Thomas' building.  When I looked at it I became frustrated that I caught the reflection of my cupped hands in the car window.  After editing it, though, I realized the photo captured something I never intended:  the illusion of my hands holding on to a son who had already flown our nest. 


This photo embodies the knowledge that holding on to our children means trying to grasp the air--they must fly, and we must let them go.

Back to life,
Christine

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