Oh Anderson! My Anderson!

Well...nothing like starting up your blog (again!!!) and letting it sit for a month.  Empty.  With no pearls of wisdom.  Or smatterings of humor. 

Truth be told (and I'm all about bearing my soul here, Mr. Cornbluth) things have been a little chaotic and rocky at the Wilhite Ranch, of late.  This is all of my own doing, of course.  If I could just learn to get out of my own way and stop trying to micromanage every aspect of my life, I'm quite certain all of the desired elements would fall into place.  It's as if I can literally see God rolling His eyes and saying, "Y'know, when you're ready to let me do MY job...unsupervised, I'll be right here for you.  In the meantime, have fun treading water...knock yourself out, kid."  So...I'm concentrating on centering myself and working in conjunction with my Creator instead of scurrying behind Him and rearranging the furniture, so to speak.

Anyway...I digress.  I do that a lot...the sad lament of an undisciplined, scattered mind.  (I'm working on that, too.)  But, in response to my original post, I had a few comments from my lovely followers and one in particular from my Irish Lass Kathy, inquiring about how it feels to be letting my oldest daughter set off into the world on her own, as an "adult."  And I loved this question...."cough, ahem, cough."  Nothing like diving head first into all my anxiety, Kath.

I kid, of course.  And it's an important topic to ponder given that Number One Daughter -- Michelle Anderson Wilhite (or the Big Diamond, as we like to call her) is indeed functioning primarily as an autonomous young woman these days (and for many more to come, I pray) whom we only occasionally see in passing as she frolics and breezes through our lives, coming home from work, poking her head in the fridge for a nanosecond (only to wrinkle her nose at the given prospects), and fluttering out the door again to any number of social callings.

Kathy asked me what my biggest fears are about letting my first born loose into the world  and I have to admit, I can sincerely say...I don't have many.  What I mean by that is that Chas and I have done our work with her...the real work...the hard, repetitive, mind numbing, beat-your-head-against-a-wall-because-the-child-would-argue-with-a-paint chip, kinda work.  The granite (sometimes overbearingly maternal) Portuguese foundation has been set;  she knows she's loved, whatever choices she makes, she understands she can always find sanctuary in my arms, she's confident that her Dad and I will do our best to guide her back towards the right path should she occasionally lose her way. 

So, do I worry?  Certainly.  I worry that someone whose upbringing has not been as nurturing and stable as Anderson's will bring harm to her, I worry that she'll over extend herself when it comes to money, I worry that she'll trust her heart to the wrong person.  But  all these are elements of her life that are beyond my control...and anyone elses really.  Again, I look to my very benevolent, loving God to watch over her and protect her, because let's face it -- she belonged to Him eons before she ever belonged to me and I know for certain that He has even more invested in her than I do...hard as that may be for me to wrap my limited mortal consciousness around.

What I hope for my oldest child is that she learns from my limitations and regrets...not that I have many...regrets anyway.  I hope that she will travel endlessly and see the world with radiant, curious, optimistic, cautiously critical eyes.  I hope that she'll find a career that utilizes her inherent talents of language, spontaneity, and a dangerously sharp wit.  I hope that she continues to educate herself by forever falling under the spell of a musty, old, used bookstore tucked away in the corner alley of a market place in Mumbai, or La Paz, or Kefalonia. 

Most of all I hope that (every now and then) she finds her way home, rushes through the door, pokes her head in the fridge (wrinkles her nose at the prospects), sits down at the table, uncorks a bottle of Italian wine from her latest adventure, pours two glasses...and shares her stories (with her beaming Mom) of how amazing her life is.  Of all of them...this is my greatest hope.