Graduation

I am about to walk out the door and drive to my baby's high school graduation.   I am not ready for this.  Ok, I am clothed and have a fabulous skirt on - and my hair even looks great for this horribly humid day.  But I am not ready.  She thinks she is ready, but I know she is not.  I probably thought I was ready back in 1902 when I graduated (no, that's not a typo - tee hee).   Since Aspergers is so very prevalent in her dear life, she thinks that she is 18 and now a graduate and by golly, she is ready to make ALL decisions and do whatever she wants.  That scares me.  It should scare her.  Actually, I think it does and so she is not so calm, cool and collected these days.  I'm not either. 

Her dad reminded me of how, when she was a toddler, she would climb and climb to the top of the jungle gyms with no fear.  We would have to stand underneath her and with great fear and anticipation, we would be there to catch her if she fell.  We were there to save her from herself, from her thinking that she could handle anything.  Well, we are back there again.  We are ready to stand ready to catch her.  This time, she doesn't want us there.  This time, the stakes are higher.  This time, the consequences could be more than a scratch or a bruise.  This time, we have to pray that we have done enough, and turn it over to Heavenly Father in prayer.  

This time, she may have to catch herself.  We'll have to wait and see if she will.