One humid summer afternoon, my daughter and I explored a bit of single track. She ran ahead of me on the trail, and my heart wrenched as I watched her jabbing elbows and sandal tread grow further from me.
How will I ever let her go?
Suddenly she turned to consider the distance between us, to see if she had run from safe to wild. I waved with big sweeping arms, equally relieved that she was not yet so fast to forget her mama and eager to encourage her sense of this grand adventure. There we were, grinning and furiously waving at one another above vast prairie grass, her frame a mirror of mine.
It hit me surer than certain: ours will always be a shared story, some chapters recording greater distance but always connected by this perfect grace called unity, not that we hold tightly to each other but lean together toward our eternal purpose, our Cornerstone.