Sending your first child to college is one of those moments that quietly changes everything. You spend nearly two decades being needed for every detail, every ride, every permission slip, every late-night worry and then suddenly, your job is to step back and trust what you’ve built.
For our family, the plan was clear. We would remain in Bahrain while Nic returned to the United States to start college at James Madison University. We were preparing ourselves for the reality of parenting across oceans and time zones, learning to let go from 8,000 miles away.
But the world had other plans.
As conflict and instability spread across the Middle East, four out of five of us were forced to return to the U.S. far sooner than expected. What could have been only fear and disruption quietly became something else too an unexpected maybe complicated gift.
Instead of being half a world away, I was suddenly two hours from my son.
One more year in the same state.
One more year easy visits to mom.
One more year of being able to show up for band concerts, sporting events, or just to help with the laundry.
College still creates distance, even when it’s nearby. Your kids stop bringing you every thought and every problem. You no longer overhear conversations or read moods the way you used to. You don’t get advance warning when something is off. You have to trust them to come to you or trust them to handle it on their own.
That’s the hardest part.
Not the miles.
The surrender.
We don’t spend 18 years raising children so they can stay children. We raise them so they can become adults, capable, grounded, and resilient when no one is watching.
And this fall, Nic proved something to himself.
After his first semester at JMU, his name appeared on the President’s List recognition earned by students carrying a full academic load while maintaining excellence. But the grades were only part of the story.
He was working at UREC.
Volunteering at the Arboretum.
Competing in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.
Fencing.
Playing in the concert band.
He wasn’t just attending college.
He was building a life.
Seeing his name published wasn’t about pride, it was about relief. Relief that the habits we tried to teach him had taken root. That he knew how to show up, even when no one was taking attendance. That he understood effort isn’t optional if you want to win.
And soon, the geography will stretch again. We’ll head to Portugal in July, and Nic will spend a semester in Australia. The miles will grow. The time zones will return.
But the fear won’t.
Because somewhere between Bahrain and Virginia, between leaving home and finding his footing, he built something that will travel with him anywhere:
Work ethic.
Drive.
An understanding of what it takes to succeed, not just in the classroom, but in life.
That is the real milestone.
And getting one more year close enough to watch it happen was a gift I will always be grateful for. 💙