Two weeks ago today Shawn and I dropped the last kid off at college, and I’m still in shock.

Where did those 18 years go, or the nearly two and a half decades of having kids under foot? The days crawled but the years raced.

We followed Anna’s battered blue Dakota up Highway 377 to the University of North Texas and sat in a traffic jam in the middle of orange construction barrels on Eagle Drive while hundreds of other families waited their turn to pull into the dorm parking lot. We got off the main drag a few blocks early and found spaces in a parking lot just one street over from her hall. Shawn, Anna, big sister Rachel (there at her sister’s insistent request), and I grabbed boxes and headed to her dorm.

A bit unsure and nervous, Anna took charge anyway and went to check in and get her key while the rest of us waited by the boxes on the steps out front. She came back breathless and triumphant, lanyard looped around her neck. Her room was on the fifth floor (aren’t they always?). The line for the elevators went out the door and down the block, so she led the charge to the nearest narrow stairwell.

Up, up, up we went, squeezing against the hand rail and orienting the box just right every time we passed students and parents on their way down the five flights. After several trips and copious amounts of sweating, we had most of what she brought in her room. Then there was moving furniture and the awkward task of making a lofted bed in tight quarters: layering on mattress protector, memory foam, pad, fitted sheet, flat sheet and her Grand Bette-made UNT green quilt. Anna may or may not have bumped her head on the acoustic tile ceiling. Rachel may or may not have made a trip hefting a heavy box from the parking lot up to the fifth floor before realizing she was in the “B” wing and would have to go back down to the ground floor and across the courtyard to the “A” wing and up another five flights.

Shawn and I pose with Anna, our UNT girl. Her room is only half way set up, but she was ready for us to go.

We got a few of the boxes unpacked, then Anna declared lunch break. We went to one of her favorite restaurants, Chipotle, even though Kansas cattleman Shawn doesn’t like to go there because they get all their beef from Australia. On this momentous occasion, he went with zero complaints or snide comments.

Then we went across the street on a Target run for a power strip, fan, gluten-free snacks and other assorted items, angling our cart around the aisles crowded with back-to-school shoppers. Once we got back to her dorm room with a last load of supplies, Queen Anna said, “You can go now.” She wanted to finish setting up with her friend and roommate Ashley and without parental units and sister taking up valuable floor space.

And that was it. After so many years of dreading the moment, I felt numb. The 45-minute drive back to Keller was quiet but not somber. When we got home, we still had Rachel visiting for another ten days. Rebekah is dividing her time between taking a few classes at the University of Texas at Arlington and a part-time job at The Keller Pointe, so she is living at home. The empty nest is not empty yet. And that’s okay.

I teared up late that night when I looked out the front door for Anna’s pickup and remembered why I didn’t see it at the curb. But she’s been home twice in the last two weeks, and I saw her in Denton twice. It makes a difference having her so close. Taking Rachel to A&M and dropping Rebekah off at KU her freshman year were much harder.

Part of the reason I’ve not been more mopey is because two days after we dropped Anna off, my step dad (a UNT alumni and big fan of the Mean Green) lost his long battle with cancer. Known for his wry sense of humor, his affection for all things Denton, and his willingness to go out of his way to help someone in need, Bud will be missed by many friends and family members. His passing had me thinking of the bigger picture and spending more time with my mom.

Bud sitting behind the wheel of his beloved 1951 Chevy convertible.

The end of active-duty child-rearing can be the beginning of new adventures with a wider scope than just the folks under my roof. More time to explore near and far. More opportunities to grow in giving to others. More knowledge that each moment is precious. If you’re a mom or dad in this perilous place of transition, allow a little mourning for what is gone, then seek the “mores.”

Life is full of challenges and changes. Some we anticipate for years and others catch us by surprise as one season ends and a new one begins. But we can know this. God has everything under control and will use all of it for our good, if we’ll let Him.

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” – Ephesians 2:10

If we’re still drawing breath, God’s got good things planned for us to do.