Sharon with and without labels

Three years ago I gave my daughter a permanent magic marker to label everything she was taking on a mission trip to San Salvador. Last fall she left for college bearing only a driver’s license with her name and address on it. It has taken ears, but I have learned to let her go without excessive identification.
I began my lessons in letting go when she was barely old enough to tell people her name, let alone her address or phone number. That was the spring her church teacher decided to take a field trip to the zoo.
My sons had all been older when they went on their first field trip. My wiggle, worm daughter with a bent to wonder was pre-school aged. Until then I had only left her in the care of others in controlled classroom setting or with a stay-at-home sitter.
The teacher planned to drive a couple hours away to a large zoo with meandering paths and scattered buildings. She asked several other mothers to help chaperone. The trip was well planned, all I had to provide was a permission slip, a packed lunch and my daughter.
We were up early the day she was to go. After a bath, she nibbled at her breakfast while I packed her lunch and supervised as she dressed in an outfit suitable for the weather. I vaguely remember wondering, “what if she gets lost.” A name tag was the obvious solution, except I knew name tags can be torn off and lost. I am sure there were plenty of logical explanations for what I did next, but looking back I really do not remember why I did what I did: I wrote her name, address and phone number on both of her arms. I looked her over, realized the information might rub or sweat off so I knelt down behind her, lifted up her shirt and wrote the same information on her back. I don’t remember where else I recorded her address. I do remember being quite pleased that I had found the perfect solution for identifying a lost child.
Once I had signed, sealed and addressed her to be returned to sender in one piece (or in parts) we got in the car and drove to the church to meet the other pre-schoolers. The other, unmarked children excitedly milled around. Adults checked names, gathered up lunches and stacked up sweaters and jackets.
I left her to ride the church van with her class and the chaperones. I went home assured I had down what I could to keep her safe and clearly identified. I did not worry about her for the rest of the day.
She returned late that afternoon, safe and sound, sunburned, happily chatting about the animals … and without one letter of her name and address on her anywhere.
I had never seen ink wear off so completely or so quickly. No one ever said anything to me about it. I was too chagrined to ask if one of the chaperones had scrubbed it off before they left.
In retrospect I realize that was not the best solution. It did, however soothe my fares enough to allow her to join her class on a field trip. With that beginning, I was ready years later to let her go on a summer mission trip to San Salvador. And last fall she actually left for college without one name tag on her anywhere.