Ghostwriter

Never was there a quote that described my RE more. I put it on a poster and taped 14 first day of school porch photos under it. Fourteen years, twelve backpacks, no ugly duckling phases. She graduated and I didn’t cry. The next morning, however, she flew to Missouri to see my parents for five days, or "practice college" as we called it. Greg got home from dropping her off and I cried a little in his ear as we hugged because the house already felt hollow.

The next day I was desperate for any shred of RE in my life so I played Bien’s “Confetti” on YouTube. It started the chain reaction of RE tunes I’m used to hearing when she’s unloading or making cookies. I mean, if you can’t have your daughter in the house you can have her substitute hologram playlist avatar, right? Later that night she called and we talked for 97 minutes while I worked on the James Christensen fairytale puzzle in the dining room.

Five days felt like forever but we’ve resumed breakfasting around the sunny kitchen table. My house is back to its usual happy temperature. Nothing is better than normal. And even though she runs in the morning, works all day, and is sometimes gone at night, she still ends up under my roof. Normal.

The thought of RE leaving has always hurt a little but college became the dreaded milestone once the boys fell in love with her. I promise I’m not as sad for myself as I am for them. But she needs to go. She deserves to leave and find herself and stay up way too late her first semester and get mono and blow her savings account on Winchell's donuts and junk at the BYU Bookstore. (autobiographical run-on)

It didn’t help when I asked Archer, Who's your favorite mom? and he replied, RE. Or when he heard me talking to Greg about the recent helicopter crash above Horsetail Falls and wanted clarification. Archer, a helicopter crashed. Some kids lost their mommy and their daddy. *thinking brow* Well, do they have an RE? It also doesn't help when I can hear heaven itself by eavesdropping on all three kids at bedtime via the baby monitor.

My full house and full heart have led me into a bit of a faith crisis concerning my little family. I generated one type of faith for years to get all my kids here. It is requiring a different kind of faith to let one of them go. This is my rock and my hard place: I trusted Heavenly Father’s timing for baby arrivals; I’m not as trusting with His timing for trio-splitting departures. Our Golden Age has to last more than three years!

I want to know how we’ll bridge the 15-year gap as well as the roof to roof gap. I want a clear, rosy vision of my family in the future but all I see in my head are nebulous blurs and shadow fuzz. The prayer in my heart the last several months: This is your timing, so it must be right, but I don’t feel right. I want more time together. Assure me this will pan out. Teach me how to make it work. Help us all survive the day our sunshine leaves.

So far, I’ve read two answers and felt a third:

1. “In our pursuit of me and mine, have we forgotten Thee and Thine?” 

2. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, God’s work in your life is bigger than the story you’d like that life to tell. His life is bigger than your plans, goals, or fears. To save your life, you’ll have to lay down your stories and, minute by minute, day by day, give your life back to him.” (This got my attention since I secretly consider myself a writer.)

3. I was brought to a remembrance of the night of our failed IVF. (It’s becoming very obvious to me that night was a defining moment in my life. So many things stem from that night.) We were so sad but we bought a Christmas tree and had FHE anyway. I had a sure, heart-piercing witness I would yet bring a baby into this world. Heavenly Father had watched me wrestle with closed wings inside my infertility cocoon long enough; He re-promised me Archer and the assurance alone set me free. I think He must have been smiling as I flew because He had Archer cradled in his right arm and Everett in his left. There’s your mama. She’s been waiting and is ready for you, Archer. But she has no idea you’re coming, Everett. Not a clue. We’re going to teach her a surprise lesson about possibility.

I think I had this memory because the Lord wanted to remind me that, beyond the peace and freedom I felt that heavy year, things turned out better than I ever could have imagined. Twice as good, actually. I’ve also been reminded that eternal families are His aim and reason for every order in the universe.

So what to do with my misty head but certain heart? The only thing I can do: bank on the Lord’s top priority as well as His pattern of exceeding my wildest expectations. I'm planning on possibility, on being happily surprised as I read the next chapter of our family’s life—the chapter I’m conceding, in good faith, to a wiser writer.

1. "Truly Good and Without Guile", Elder Michael T. Ringwood.

2. Letters to a Young Mormon, Adam S. Miller.

RE's Playlist:

Bien "Confetti"

Dagny "Love You Like That"

Sigrid "High Five" (Plus all other Sigrid songs. She's adorable.)

Haim "I Want You Back"

Matt Simons "Catch and Release"

Elenyi "Grow as We Go" (a cover of Ben Platt's original...I love his version, too)

First Aid Kit "Fireworks"