A guest post from my Mom, Jessica Dils
Probably the greatest joy in becoming a parent is suddenly seeing the world anew—all of the little things that have slowly become muted take on new importance, new brightness, new focus, new light. The soft fur of a puppy, the sour bite of a lemon, the gentle cold of a snowflake, the ringing call of a bell. You hold your child’s hand and you teach him the world—or at least as much of the world that fits in his small grasp.
Little by little and then all of a sudden there is the
growing up and the letting go. The
first babysitter, a morning at preschool, the bus ride to kindergarten, a field
trip without you. Overnights and test grades and wins and losses—successes and
failures and each new day. Somehow you have to learn to trust someone else to ensure that your boy is safe and
kind. Camp for four weeks. Camp for eight weeks. Sunscreen instructions.
Letters home. Without much warning he’s behind the wheel, taking the car out
for the very first time, navigating away from you as you try to have faith in
all that you’ve given him along the way.
I have never had more faith than I do this week, having
spent Thanksgiving in Germany with Tom. Nobody tells you about this new stage of parenting, the part when
instead of you holding his hand and
seeing the world new through his young eyes, he reaches over and takes your hand and is perfectly capable of
leading the way.
Tommy showed us things this week that we’ve never seen.
Things he’s discovered all on his own over the past four months, finding them
vast, and dangerous, and complicated, and extraordinary. Where to find the best
croissant on his early morning walk into his new village home of Kirdorf. How
to cook us a morning Weisswurst and serve it with warm pretzels and sweet tangy
mustard—German style. How to ride his bike from one end of Bad Homburg to the
other in order to get to school three days a week, and how to time the buses
just right if the weather is too rainy or cold for pedaling. How to take the
U-Bahn, the S-Bahn and the ICE trains into Frankfurt, Mainz, Heidelberg, Dusseldorf,
Hanover, Bamberg, Nuremberg and home again. How to fly to Scotland, rent some
clubs, play two rounds of golf on some of the world’s best courses and reach
out to strangers who soon become friends. How to order a “Kölsch”
beer completely in German and distinguish between the vast array of Alts and
Lagers, keeping track of each one’s subtle complexities. How to join a
“football” team, train with a second, and shout out German commands as a
steady, poised back, and then huddle with his teammates at the end of a game
and belt out the ritual of the feisty call-and-response cheer. How to plan a
day trip by car to the city of Cologne (Köln) and steer his Dad smoothly
past the vineyards and castles along the Rhine’s scenic route without one wrong
turn. How to embrace a new family who has learned to love him as he has reached
out to each special Judson member: Izzy, Alex, Sebastian, Luc, Simon, and his
other mom, Nina. The part that makes me most proud as his Mom, the part that
kindles that faith I have in him, is that for Tom, at the end of any given
day—filled with travel, adventure, exploration and independence—the most
cherished part of his four months away
from home is the new home and family
that’s always waiting for him.
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| A family photo I forgot about from back in October |
Sharing all of this with us has given Tom a whole new
perspective—the kind a new parent might discover through her child—as he says
in his most recent post: “Traveling and seeing the sights from their
perspective opened up so many new things for me.”
We’ve somehow come full circle—launched him out into the
world through trust and hope and faith and love. We’ve watched him take in the
world for so long through his eyes; now he’s learned to take it all in through
ours.
Thanks for all that you’ve shared with us, Tom.
Loved reading this! Thanks for sharing.
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