Another Independence Day that changes everything. Nine years ago, on July 4, 2013, I started my three-month sabbatical that rang in the end of my time at C.R. and the beginning of my life as an independent contractor.
I’m back in Vermont, and today marks another Independence Day. This morning, I signed the final offer and sales agreement on one of the homes in Steubenville that I viewed, and so did the seller. It also marks my independence, my letting-go of my beloved Father J.—parish priest, confessor, spiritual director, and friend—which is one of the hardest but also one of the most necessary things I’ve ever done.
I wrote to him before: “It’s like you’re climbing a steep hill and I’m piggybacking, clinging on for dear life. I hope that soon I may be able to climb off your back and take your hand, walking alongside you. And at some point, I will let go of you entirely and walk with Jesus alone.”
I can sense that point has arrived.
But it’s not all just tough decisions. This is hands-down one of the best 4th of Julys I’ve had. Today, one of my longtime wishes came true—I got to ride on my friend B.’s Republican campaign float and toss candy to the little kids along the parade route. I always wanted to do that. The kids on our float were all dressed in period costumes; just adorable. Then a BBQ afterward, with my favorite folks, and fireworks at the Oxbow Park tonight.
What a great way to end an era.
So often in our lives, we meet people and see places and do things for the last time, but we aren’t aware of it. How many times did I wish I’d known that I’d be doing something for the last time, so I would have appreciated it more. Being aware of the “lasts” is bittersweet, but it also gives us closure. Closure is so important; my experience at the “Tomb of the Unborn Child” clearly showed how important it is.