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In Safe Hands - One












A last round of hugs and our daughter disappears down the long hallway to be outfitted with her new equipment and clothing while we walk cautiously across the January ice to our still warm car.  A few minutes ago our family of three walked into True North where our daughter, a young adult, has made the courageous decision to spend three months, mostly outside, during an unusually harsh Vermont winter.  After friendly greetings we stood awkwardly in the reception area until the young woman who was to be our child’s primary therapist bounded up and herded us into the little conference room with four comfy armchairs.  Instantly I get that we are not to prolong this parting. The therapist must be sure that we are all committed, and that our daughter, who is an adult, is here by her own choice.  I glance at my husband but he is wide-eyed and shut-down. 

As we pull out of the driveway, we are quiet.  What is there to say?  We know that there is no one we love more than this young person.  We know that her journey into adulthood, hard enough, has taken a more difficult turn. We know we have become accustomed to never knowing what will happen next.  We know that our much anticipated tranquil  “empty nest” has been anything but empty or tranquil.  

Our road homeward leads us over the Appalachian Gap, which switchbacks steeply upward, the surface heaved, cracked, and potholed by the constant freezes and thaws.  Although most of those who enter True North live much farther away, we live nearby on the western slopes of the Green Mountains.  As the bird flies, not far, but in winter the mountains make a formidable barrier.  At the summit, we pause to look, but today there is no sparkle of Lake Champlain or row of beckoning Adirondack peaks, just the lowering clouds and swirl of snow. 

We begin our descent. With the mountain behind us, our tongues are released although we stick to banalities.  Do we have her phone? (Yes, I have it in my lap, and yes, on the way over in lieu of talking, she listened to music, one last fix.)  Then we spend the rest of the drive discussing how best to handle assimilating her young cat into our household of two cats and two dogs. 

In no time, we are home.  Although our daughter no longer lives with us, the house feels empty, even with five animals swirling around wanting our love and attention.  Entrusting our child to a wilderness program feels huge. Since that day twenty-two years ago when we got in our car with this newborn, three days old, and took her home she has been our responsibility and no one else’s. What is new is that we have accepted, for the first time since that day that we must step aside. We understand that her problems are larger and deeper and require more than we can give. After her first setback two years ago, she turned to us, and we responded and have done all we can do for her and it was not enough.  

She has committed to being at True North for three months.  In theory for three months we won’t have to worry about her.  For three months she will be in the company of others, peers with similar problems, and staff who have committed and trained hard to work in this rigorous setting, determined to make a difference.  


Our daughter found this program, has chosen to go, and we support this choice, neither easy nor, frankly, cheap.  She is one of the most determined people I know, so while we are both overwhelmed, we also know that today we have added something new; however cautiously, we have added hope.  Hope that here in the hands of the guides and therapists at True North our daughter will find her way to resuming her journey toward  a whole and independent adult life.   Even more, we hope that we will all find our way into wholeness as individuals and as a family.





   




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