In the last weeks before we moved my oldest child into her dorm at an urban college, I found myself getting misty-eyed at the oddest times. My daughter had taken to patting me on the shoulder and saying, “That’s ok, Mom, you’re fragile.” I was. I still am. But I was excited about her new adventure, too. I was eager to see what God had in store.
Unfortunately, that still didn’t translate to completely sane thinking.
The day after we dropped her off, I continuously checked the tracking app she still had on her phone. (In lieu of attaching a beacon to her head, this seemed like the next best thing.)
“Oh, look, she’s at lunch!” “Oh, look, she must be at that sorority rush meeting!” “Oh, look, she’s walking across campus; she must be going to that international dining hall.”
It was a tiny little glimpse of a girl I already missed so much it hurt.
Jeff humored my slightly obsessive stalking. I told him it made me feel better knowing where our daughter was and guessing what she might be doing.
Late that night in bed I checked the app one more time. Her little dot appeared right outside an unfamiliar dorm.
“Cool, she must be at a party, making new friends.” But in the next moment it was moving at great speed—away from campus to a large condo complex across town! At 11 p.m.!
Suddenly I was on high alert, my thoughts whirring. How could she be in a car? Very few freshmen had one. I knew parties at this massive public university would be a stark wake-up call from her low-key friends at her small, Christian high school. She’d had no experience extricating herself from a situation where someone was drinking and driving.
Before I could stop them, my thoughts flitted down scarier paths: Someone could have thrown her into a car!
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