She did what with my Tupperware??

My daughter's college friend threw away my Tupperware cake carrier. Threw it away. She kept the cheap plastic storage container that held the bazillion cucumber sandwiches I made for the Alumni Tea. But the cake carrier that held the cupcakes, the cake carrier that was a wedding gift almost 25 years ago, the one I used for everything, EVERYTHING, she tossed. She tossed it. She lost it for weeks and when she found it, she thought it was moldy and so rather than try to wash it, she threw it away.

I want to cry.

I want to call her and shake my finger at her thoughtlessness.

I want to ask her what she was thinking!

I want to go through the garbage and see if I can find it.

I really liked that container. 

And yet, about thirty minutes after getting this news -- after seriously fighting tears that a wedding gift had been so casually thrown away -- it began to dawn on me that this very probably isn't about the cake carrier at all. Oh no, I fear it is uncovering a wealth of emotions tonight.

See, I gently filled that carrier with my creations. I gingerly transported them to Mississippi College and put them in the careful hands of my daughter for her event. I trusted her and her social tribe with the containers. I trusted they would be returned to me no worse for the wear after serving their purpose, fulfilling their duties.

Mercy, that is just like how I loaded my amazing children into my van and transported them and their belongings one to one college, one to another. I placed all three of them in the caring hands of faculty and administrators and I am trusting that they will be returned to me better and stronger than when I dropped them off.

But here is the rub: I couldn't monitor the care given to my container. After handing it off, I had to trust its care to others -- most of whom are completely unknown to me. I had no control of where it went, what it was used for and apparently, if it would be saved or discarded as no-good-rubbish. No one knew how special it was. No one knew that it had been a gift.

After I drove away from Millsaps, and after I left Mississippi College, and every day when I leave Benjamin at Belhaven, I have no control over where they go, whom they go with, and whether or not the people treat them with the love and care they deserve. My heart is screaming, "These are my precious tiny babies! They have overcome so much in their 18 years. Please be gentle. Please be kind. Please treat them well." But it is rather frowned upon for me to march around their respective campuses chanting such.

So I sit hear storming heaven's gate with prayers for their safety, for their schoolwork, for their relationships. I cherish every weekend they can come home and I hug them and love them and remind them that they are now, and will always be a perfect gift from God to me. 

And I would make them cupcakes. But sadly, I have no where to store them.