If you have read the previous blog about "The First and the Last", you'll know that we are walking through the almost unexplainable time of having a new licensed driver in our family -- our baby girl is driving, alone, and even though it's the last one for us, in some ways, it seems the hardest.
The evening of last Friday, Lauren was invited to a birthday party of a friend very close to where she had gotten her license earlier that day. Well, she really believed and had me practically convinced that she could find her way back to the same road. Jeff was a harder sell - he has had a very hard time with Lauren driving for one reason or another - and it took some convincing on her part to get him to agree. We drew a map, he interrogated her through the turns, and she gave all the right answers on where to turn.
However, as most of us know that has lived a little or a lot of life, talking through something is indeed very different than actually doing it. Lauren drove off after promising to call us if she had any questions -- or when she arrived at her friend's house. Jeff and I sat quietly staring at each other, sitting in the same room, sharing the same experience, but both thinking our different, but similar thoughts about what this meant to us.
If you've never experienced the "sending off" of a child - alone - for the first time after they get their license, you can't imagine the feeling. And, as savvy as I usually am with words, I can't even begin to describe the feeling. It's a feeling of losing control, helplessness, terror, and a keen sense of knowing that things will never be the same in your family. Now, let me encourage you, and say that these feelings dull in time, and the new "normal" in your family gradually becomes less painful and stressful, and more adjustable and doable. In essence, what you have done is handed your child another piece of his/her wings. And believe me, they will put that piece to work! As we hold on to his/her freedom by only handing out the wings piece by piece, your child will become ingenious and creative in making a small piece of a wing do amazing and sometimes foolish things in his/her efforts to have another taste of freedom. It's the struggle of the ages.
To make a very long, painful story short, Lauren never made it to the party. She crossed over the road that she was to turn right on and drove another almost 20 miles into a nearby small town in another county. Evidently, there was no sense of direction or time (i.e. I don't remember going this way OR I should be there by now) and that's to be expected with some kids. It's very hard not to judge one child by the skills or lack of skills of another child. If you've had one child that has a good sense of direction, then you naturally want to expect the same from another. However, it doesn't work that way.
We talked to her every five minutes or so, and it was obvious that she was adamant in redeeming herself from this mistake of missing her turn. (Ah, she's so much like her mom on this one! How many miles have I've driven to find my way back if I got lost) But, even though we weren't exactly sure where she was, we had an idea, and it was making us nervous. Jeff, with much anxiety in his voice told her to find a well-lit place and stop. Not to drive anymore. We made her find a road sign and number so we would know where to find her. When we mapquested the address, we realized that she was mere miles from one of the roughest areas of our city. All the news clips that I had heard about the west side of town were replying in my head during this time.
This is where I wish that there was invented the ability to literally reach through the phone lines and hold this child of mine. Though she never indicated on the phone that she was afraid, she had to be. It took us a good 40 minutes to reach her and it was almost dark by then. There at a dimly lit Philipps 66 station teeming with "creatures of the night" was the little Mazda with our beautiful red-headed daughter with her seat laying back all the way. I restrained myself from running and holding her and blubbering and fussing and fuming and crying.....all the things that I wanted to do. I just knocked gently on the window so I would not startle her and smiled at her gently.
Her dad got in her car and rode back to the house with her. Though I can imagine that he talked to her of many things, the greatest lesson she learned that evening was through experience.
And, thus the killer. As our kids get older, our words may resound in their ears at times, but when those words are combined with experience, that is when they really learn of life.
Needless to say, we're back to her driving to school, church, the mall, and in the general vicinity of our home. Living a little more experientially now, Lauren's okay with that. :)
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