“In those days I was always sticking money here and there for safe-keeping. I stuck Sam Hanks’s unrepayable five-dollar bill into a book where I would have it to use if I had to use it, but where as long as I might keep it I would always know it from any other five-dollar bill. I kept it to remind me that there are some accounts that cannot be settled.”
Jaber Crow, by Wendell Berry
I remember the week before Cade was born, 19 summers ago. I remember it well, because we lived in a small cottage on a 100-acre estate in the rolling countryside of Buckinghamshire, England, and a week before he was born, he was already long overdue. Maile walked tenderly in circles around our garden, just inside the high hedgerows, holding her swollen stomach and whispering promises. I watched from the window, equal parts excited and terrified at the prospect of being a father.
Those feelings have never diminished, not in 19 years, not with six kids. Excited and terrified. Even more of each.
We ate spicy curry from The New Akash and took long walks out to Coombe Hill, with its expansive views over the English countryside, and we took part in other various and sundry activities meant to spur a child from the comforts of the womb. Still, he would not budge.
At night, I lay the side of my head on her tight skin, just above where her belly button threatened to pop, and I imagined I could hear two hearts beating: Maile’s and the baby’s.
One week can be as long and as short as eternity, each day the width and breadth of Creation.
Now, another week. Another countdown. I don’t know precisely how it will go, but I can imagine it: rolling up to the dorm, unpacking the van, settling Cade into his room. The long and short day on campus, Maile and I exploring our old haunts—our first kiss, our first class together, the precise spot where I proposed.
There will be a candlelight service at night, and then the long slow drive away from him. Lucy is coming with us for moral support on the trip home.
One week from today.
Being reborn into something new is good and hard and beautiful work. May we all find our way.
I was reading Jayber Crow and came across that quote, that “there are accounts that cannot be settled,” and I realized it’s true—Cade will never be able to settle his account with his mother for carrying him, nurturing him, helping him to grow up. And we will never be able to settle our account with him—being a parent is a joy and heartache and privilege beyond description, and he has given that to us.
So, here we are, unable to ever settle the accounts we have with each other.
This is life.
In this moment, saying a prayer for Cade that he will let his light shine and he will discover and use the gifts from the Almighty. Blessings!
Egads, Shawn. What a beautiful and vivid image you've painted! We have one year left before our journey to drop our oldest at college, and I can only imagine the feelings will intensify. You've captured them so well (as always)--and this waiting and leaning into and fearing and hoping is so, so similar to carrying that child in my womb. Peace and joy to you all in this transition. And oh, God, safety and tender care.