When I was a school girl a whole rash of interesting, International toys came out: the hula hoop, the Eskimo Yo Yo, Frisbee and the Australian boomerang.
There was even a popular song about a fellow whose boomerang wouldn’t come back.
Like most of my friends, I asked for a boomerang for Christmas, but I was never able to get the thing to come all the way back. I’ve had more luck getting a Frisbee disk to return to my hand than I ever had with that blasted boomerang.
Now, I’m having another chance at a boomerang experience. My middle son, Adam, 26 years old, is returning to my home in less than two weeks, to go back to school and set his life in a new direction following a very painful divorce.
In spite of the circumstances, I’m thrilled to have him join his 20 year old brother, his 96 year old grandma and me.
I’m also just a little nervous.
He is no longer a little boy, or even a teenager. Although he is now an adult, he will be, once again, dependent upon me for his support. The dynamics will be new for all of us.
I’ve cleared out the former guest room to make way for his things, resisting the urge to decorate it for him. I want to allow him to make the room his own, but a tiny part of me is mourning the loss of my sewing and ironing room.
God’s hand is in this change. I’m sure if I turn to him in the rough spots, this time my boomerang experience will be a more than successful one. In fact, I think it will be a blessing.