I should start by telling you, our oldest son, Christian just turned 16. This is huge. I know it's cliché to say we were holding him in our arms a minute ago, but it's true. To go from handing your baby a toy car to throwing him a set of actual keys went entirely too fast. On the other hand...Thank You Lord Jesus. To have the ability to throw out a, "Drive home from school or practice whenever you're done" or "bring your brothers and sister home with you". I don't even know what that's going to be like, but I can't wait.
We had to get there first though. In North Carolina kids start this process at the age of 14 and a half. FOURTEEN AND A HALF. That seemed crazy to me. They begin classes and work with an instructor until they get their permit at the age of 15. For the next year, they must log 60 hours of driving with 10 of these hours being at night.
That was all well and good until this Saturday. Adam and I woke up at o'dark thirty in the morning and along with Christian, we crawled our way to the DMV. The office didn't open until 8:00, but when I tell you there was already a line wrapped around the building, I almost fell over.
As we grumbled our way around the corner of the building, we actually ran into one of our friends who had been sitting beside her son in fold out chairs since 6:30. They were only half way down the incredulous line. Even worse, when the doors finally opened, it wasn't until later when she sent a text saying her son couldn't take the test due to some paperwork.
Wait, WHAT?
Not only was I already nervous sick about our first born taking his test, now I questioned whether we had everything.
Aaaaaand we didn't.
After standing in line for three and a half years in the Carolina summer heat, we didn't have what we needed.
When we returned though, we were absolutely prepared and ready to go.
Monday afternoon brought less of a line, the woman at the front desk was the sweetest and most kind person on earth and then we met, Carol.
I remember the person I had when taking my test a hundred years ago and the only thing scarier than the overly used clipboard he gripped, was the scowl on his burly face. No smile, no calming presence...just a mean old man who seemed as though he hated life itself solely because of the 16 year old punk kids who lived in it.
Take that, turn it upside down and you'd have, Carol. She was funny, patient and believe it or not, really, really nice. Christian was completely at ease with her which made my head spin considering he seemed to totally disregard the fact that he was about to take one of the biggest tests of his 16 years.
They climbed in the car and away they went.
In what seemed to be a minute and a lifetime, the car returned. My heart pounded, my breathing raced as we waited for a sign, any sign when they got out of the car. Thumbs up, down? Carol emerged first, but I couldn't read her expression. It wasn't until Christian climbed out of the car that I returned my hurried glance to her and she smiled. Christian did the same along with a head nod and a thumbs up and I screamed. I literally screamed and jumped up and down, so much so that someone popped their head out of the DMV to see what was going on.
In life there are good days and bad and this one was definitely at the top of the list. It's nice to know people like Carol are out there, making these experiences so much better for everyone.
As for Christian, we celebrated with dinner and a cookie cake that he drove to pick up by himself with a smile that must have been at least a mile wide.