Our youngest daughter, and last child at home, graduated high school, and moved away from us, all within the span of two hours this past week.

Twenty-eight years of raising children, and in the span of minutes … “POOF!” … Shelley and I found ourselves staring at each other across our five-bedroom house that once was bustling and it felt like we were stepping all over ourselves.

Oh, I am not sad for our daughter. She will be fine.

Born a fighter, it took all her guts and grit and grind to work her way to the finish line of an academic system that is not designed for kids who are not mainstream, who learn differently than their peers.

This is the moment our family has been waiting for for years, as we unfortunately gave up hope that our schools would see the beautifully created and unique child that was trapped in our feisty girl who just wanted to feel like she belonged.

But now she is liberated!

Set free from the arbitrary and limiting strictures that make up our public schools paradigms and that hold back the potential of so many students who do not fall neatly into labeled buckets.

We don’t know if there is more school in our daughter’s future, but frankly I don’t care. Right now, she’s headed to a new employment adventure. One in which the employer recognizes Siri for the gifts she uniquely possesses. … Her God-given gifts, mind you.

Imagine how that must feel for a young woman who has spent 18 years wanting someone other than her family members to see her for who she is! … What a blessing for her! Come Holy Spirit, come!

It would not be fair of me not to mention that there were a few special souls along Siri’s school journey who were her liferafts. The elementary grade teacher who believed in our daughter’s dyslexia diagnosis, and tailored a learning environment to support her; the high school special education teacher who saw Siri as an individual in a sea of 2,400 other students; the assistant superintendent who took the time to listen to my wife and I when we suggested facility changes that would support other children like ours who don’t succeed in big, urban-sized school buildings.

To those school professionals who were literal oases in an academic desert that our child had to traverse, we are grateful. Shelley and I send you our sincerest gratitude for being the hope our child clung to through 13 years of what seemed to her like punishment.

Friends … there she goes! My little Sazzi Lou, my Cronkindominous Rex … my little blonde, curly-cured firebrand, who finally gets a chance to be herself. The self that was beautifully and lovingly made in God’s image.

Go fly my girl, and don’t look back! Your best years are ahead! Love you! … Your, Dubby. Amen.