A Leap of Faith

Ahead of my 20-year-old daughter was a daunting 16-hour journey. She would fly alone to Paris overnight, make her way through customs, reclaim her luggage and transfer to a train to southern France, then find a cab to take her to the university. It would be a long day by anyone's standards. She was not only the first person from her school to study at this university; this semester, she was the only student from her school studying in France. She was, in every sense, alone.

With her belongings packed into one bursting suitcase and her backpack stuffed with the necessities in case her luggage was lost, she made her way down the long international hallway. Watching her walk away was one of the hardest things I've ever done as a parent. Never mind she had dreamed of studying abroad since middle school. Never mind she was going for only one semester, less than six full months. It felt like I was letting go forever.

My list of fears was long and varied, from the realistic to the ridiculous. "What if she gets sick or hurt?  What if there is a terrorist attack? What if she's lonely? What if she can't get her phone to work with the international plan? What if she hates her classes?"

What if.
What if.
What if.
  
Many of my fears were realized.  She was a little lonely, and overwhelmed at first. Getting a bank account set up was complicated, made more so by the prepaid food stipend that curiously didn't go into effect for the first six weeks she was there. Her classes were entirely in French, hard enough by itself, but even more challenging because the southern France dialect is so different from the Parisian French taught in school. From a parental standpoint, I could provide no support other than moral.  This was her journey, both literally and metaphorically.

As the days turned to weeks, our daughter began to thrive.  By the time the first break came along, she decided to go Paris for a few days, and when her newfound friends had other plans, she went alone. She stayed in a hostel, took a million pictures, savored macarons, and walked through Paris in the snow. Her smile took my breath away.

A few months into the semester we visited her in her new home in Montpellier. We had rented a small apartment, and after we arrived in town, she came to meet us. Todd waited for her down on the street, watching for her as she made her way via the tram many blocks away. As he scanned the street, he said, his eyes slid past a slender woman striding confidently his way, laden with bags. It wasn't until she was almost upon him that he realized this self- possessed young woman was our daughter.
Her journey had caused her to grow in ways we'd never imagined.

After that pivotal moment in Montpellier, I realized that my fretting prevented me from seeing opportunities instead of potential disasters. Because for all my worrying, never did I think, "What if she has the most amazing experience of her life?"

Parenting is such a leap of faith, in big ways and small, that it's easy to get caught up in the what-ifs that make you want to hold on for dear life. But what if, as parents, we choose to see infinite possibilities instead of just challenges?  I hope my girls continue to have big, bold, life-changing experiences. For myself, I hope that when their next adventure rolls around, my leap of faith will be to choose the right what-ifs - those that offer opportunities and joy.