The email is only two sentences long, just about scheduling and logistics.  On the surface anyway.  But my heart catches in my throat, because of what we’re scheduling.  Yesterday your dad got his second chance at life and freedom.  Today he showed up for the meeting that mattered.  And next week he meets you, his son. 

This is good.  This is great.  Chase, this could be the beginning of setting things right for you.  This is what you deserve, a Dad who loves you and can hardly wait to meet you.  This is what I want for you – at least my mind does.  But my heart has spent months preparing for the possibility of loving you and weeks doing the things that make me your Mom and you my Son.  And, of course, I suspected I loved you already.  But the feeling is more real than ever, when suddenly the possibility of having to let you go takes on a name, a shape and the first step in that direction.  I’m way ahead of myself, of course, but the edge of uncertainty is suddenly looming closer than before.

Oh Chase, my selfish soul is already scared of the road I will have to walk, when what matters is the road you will have to walk.  I can’t even type it without crying, dammit.  Let us both put our hope in the One who is Faithful.  The One whose beauty and love chase after you every day of your life, son.  For you will be at home in the house of God no matter where you spend the days of your life.  And so will I.  Home in Him, where there is peace, assurance, and hope for whatever road we walk, together or apart.