Moments for Mom - February

My daughter, who I’ve been writing about in this column for over ten years now, just got her drivers’ permit.  I took her to the DMV yesterday and watched her take her written test.  We high-fived and jumped up and down when she passed.  And then we went driving around a parking lot.  My baby is not a baby anymore.

My son, who I’ve also been writing about for over ten years, just got mad at me for the first time for walking into his basketball practice to pick him up.  Apparently that embarrassed him.  Apparently I should’ve waited in the car even though practice had gone fifteen minutes over.  My baby is not my baby anymore.

(In case you’re wondering if time flies…yes, it does.)

So I’m now working on letting go, something I have no desire to do whatsoever.

What I want is for my kids to stop growing up.  What I want is for everything to stay the same, for just a little while please.  What I want is for neither of my kids to know how to drive, for both of my kids to light up when they see me.  

Because here’s the thing.  I remember growing up and moving out.  I remember saying goodbye to my mom when I went off to college and how she clung to me a little longer than I clung to her.  I know the feeling of no longer feeling, at the ripe old age of 19, that I needed her as a mother figure anymore.  That I was all set, good to go. 

And I am so not ready for my children to feel that way about me.  I know it’s inevitable.  I know it’s natural.  But I don’t want it. 

But even though I don’t want it, and even though I may fight it emotionally and deep down and with my friends, I will walk through intentional acts of letting go with my kids.  I will take my daughter driving, a lot.  I will smile when she slams on the brake and I will ask if she wants to go around the parking lot one more time.  I will not walk up to my son when he’s with his friends.  I will smile from across the room,  but stop yelling “go, baby!” when he gets the ball during one of his games. 

In other words, I will start stepping back.  I will start handing them the keys in all areas of life.  It will kill me, but I will do it.  Because that’s what mothers do.

Redundant Goodbyes

My children were just picked up by their father again, as happens every other Friday afternoon.  There were discussions on whether to bring the sleds, did they have their snow pants, Sara telling me she’d text when they made it to the other house, Jack saying only goodbye to my I love you.

I shut the door behind them, locking it, and I sit on the new purple and gold bird settee (it’s much more darling than it sounds), looking out the plantation shudders of my new home.  The truck pulls away, with a little bit of my heart in the backseat, and I keep sitting.

It seems colder when they’re not here. 

My heart feels hollow, not so much out of anticipatory missing of them, though I will, but because this new routine is just that.  A routine.  A part of our lives now.  We made some choices, he and I, along the way that have brought us to this place of having to make our children move back and forth between two houses, perhaps not feeling like either of them are completely home. 

It’s snowing a full, heavy snow and I won’t fall asleep knowing that my babies are just a few steps away tonight.

They say it gets better but right now I don’t know.  The redundant goodbyes are killing me.

Give

The Holy Spirit is messing with me.  I’m not a fan of him doing this. 

So my church and small group is doing a study on generosity.  I’m all for that.  I like being generous.  Some of my most precious memories have been times when I’ve been able to give a gift that surprised a friend or stranger.  But this is already taking a different turn for me. 

This isn’t going to be about money for me.  And though I originally thought it would be about my time and how I can tend to hoard it selfishly, I don’t think it’s going to be about that either.

I’m pretty sure God wants me to be generous with my enemies.  No, not send them flowers or anything.  Not hang out with them against their will (though that would be kind of funny in a totally awkward way). 

He wants me, I think…if I’m discerning correctly, to be generous with my words, with my actions, with my attitudes.

I think he wants me to forgive lavishly.  To let offenses drop to the ground instantly.  To stop my venting to others about them.  (Or at least curb the venting…look, I’m not applying for sainthood here.)  To offer things that I have no obligation to offer.  To look the person who is being unkind to me in the eye and just take it, knowing, of course, that all will be set right in the end; knowing that I’m being fought for in the heavenly realm so I don’t have to do my own fighting; knowing that the person who is hurting me doesn’t love me but I’m already fully stocked in the being-loved department so it doesn’t matter really.  To start speaking truth, even in small pieces, as respectfully and steadily as I can.  To stop the rabbit from going down the trail each time a snarky thought comes to my mind.  To pray for the people who think awful things about me, who are refusing to mend bridges with me.  To wish them well.  To ask God to bless them.  To surrender them to him. 

It’s interesting.  Part of me so doesn’t want to do this.  Part of me thinks that the high road is like extra credit and just the fact that I’m not, you know, egging their houses is pretty darn Jesus-y of me.  And yet, part of me saw this coming.  Part of me had already been choosing small acts of rebellion against my sinful nature.  I have been using the phrase the high road for a couple months now already, so I think I was primed for this. 

Plus, hell-o, Jesus always, always took the high road.  So, I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to as well.

My expectations are low, or at the very least, realistic.  I do not expect a turnaround in these relationships.  I do not expect them to come to me begging for my forgiveness for all the harm they’ve done to me.  What I expect though is that something will happen to my heart that would not happen to it if I clenched my fists and told the Spirit that I want to try to be generous another way, thankyouverymuch.  In fact, my heart is already changing, with compassion sneaking its way into the crevices, as only the Spirit can do.  And I’ve just gotten started.

Living in Fear

I’m pretty upset with myself right now because I am literally scared of my future, as I await the figurative other shoe toppling to the ground.  I’m upset with myself because I know better. 

My head knows every single thing about worry and fear that there is to know.

That it doesn’t add even an hour to my life.

That it isn’t this proactive barrier that will make the potential bad news easier to bear.

That it takes my mind off the present.

That it’s basically saying I don’t believe that there is a loving God guiding my life.

I know, I know, I know.  I know all of these things.  And, for the most part, these truths do make their way to my heart and reside there.

But just not this week.  Because this week I had one of those perfect storms of circumstances sweep through that have left me a little off balance and trying to hang on for dear life.  Nothing huge, mind you, but enough things thrown together that I’m a bit breathless, just waiting to see what happens next.

I told my Good Husband (aka God) in my journal this morning about all the things I was afraid of.  I ended with, “I’m scared your will for me will be yucky and the opposite of what I want.” 

I know, real mature.

So I went on to ask him to remind me of his goodness and to help me want his will even if it’s hard and no longer resembles the life that I have and want. 

There is a reason, I’m sure, that Jesus says “do not be afraid” like a zillion times.  It’s because, in part, that he knows our tendency to jump to fear as our default reaction.  But I think it’s also because he knows something that we keep failing to truly integrate into our lives.  That his Father, who is also my Father, really loves me.  That our Father is not out to get us.  That he’s not coming up with wild schemes to mess with our heads and leave us feeling untended.  That anything that comes our way – and I really mean anything – has been lovingly sifted through his hand before it enters our lives. 

We have a good God.  He loves us and cares for our every life’s detail.  His will may sometimes be difficult but he wants us to trust in his love and to lay down our fear, because it’s in those moments, when we can truly experience that love.

Moments for Mom - from a long, long time ago...

A repost on the morning my daughter begins driver's education...

Moments for Mom - August 2001

My 4-&-1/2 year old daughter, Sara, just asked me the other day if I would give her money for college. I asked her to clarify if she meant spending money or if she wanted to know if daddy & I were putting money away for her education. She said she was interested in the latter. I assured her that we were, and that seemed to satisfy her curiosity. But now my curiosity was piqued. Where does my daughter come up with this stuff? She’s not even in preschool yet and she wants to talk college.

I must admit that this tiny little question made my mind wander down the road about 14 or so years to the time when she’s actually heading off. On this end, it seems like ages away. But I’ve been told a number of times, just recently in fact, that it goes so fast…to truly remember how much my kids love me right now, because they won’t always act like they love me later. I do know that time goes fast – I cannot believe that it’s been over 5 years since finding out that I was pregnant with Sara…and now look, she’s getting ready for preschool, gets dressed by herself, needs little help in hopping up into her booster carseat and buckling herself in, and is even pondering her higher education plans.

But I’ve been reminded (and warned) that this is just the beginning…first days of school, bullies, dance lessons, questions that will knock me off my feet, waiting up into the night for her to come home, driving, dating, broken hearts…basically letting go a little more each day until one day when she really does jump into her own car that she will have purchased after getting her own after school job (and a little help from mom and dad because of all those straight A’s!) into the sunset towards college and a future that does not hold a daily dose of her mommy and daddy anymore.

So, I think I’ll settle in for the right now…the time that I so desperately want to rush through because it can be so tiring and frustrating sometimes…I want to just remember these precious moments. It won’t be long before both Sara and Jack stop jumping into my lap, stop running to kiss and hug me each morning, stop holding my hand on purpose and without embarrassment, stop telling me ten times a day that they love me…but for now they still do…and I want to remember.