THREE SIMPLE THINGS I NEEDED TO ReLEARN WHEN ALL THE KIDS LEFT

I've spent a large part of my life carting kids, growing kids, training kids, and breeding independence in kids, and then before my heart can adjust to the word "kids" not being quite accurate, they are not really kids.  They slid into the driver seat and morphed into adults that will forever remain my kids. They have become the pilot to a journey with me being only one part of its leg. They are the spin-off act in my life's sit-com. They write the post script words to my life's love letter. They star in the sequel to my novel.

Today, I see the rock that pinged a small hole low on my windshield beginning to become a stretching fissure. When the first child leaves home for his forever life independent of me, I recognize that same sick feeling upon hearing that ping from a highway rock hitting my windshield that shatters the window you view life through.  It seems to hit quickly, without warning, and with confusion as to how to fix the hole. Life and window alike as I knew them are altered, and I slow cling to the hope that here will be no fissures resulting from this first blemish.

But with the second child leaving, you realize the fissure is moving despite the glue you've used to hold your heart together.

And as the final child leaves to start the rest of his life, the fissure seems to travel further across the windshield and the false hope in the Safe-Lite filler fix becomes evident.

And really with this windshield fissure, there is no fix but to dig in the wallet for an expensive new windshield, just like I have to find a new glass to view life through. There will be a deductible to pay before my insurance kicks in, just as I will have to hand over some valuable moments to memory to gain a new view of life.  So, here are the claims I make to these moments when all the kids leave home. There is no insurance that I'm getting all these lessons right, but I'm trying.



1. Independence is a good thing.

Life with me has been somewhat of a dress rehearsal for the real life climbs, I suppose. I realize I've had moments when I might have summoned these thoughts:  "Man, they just need to get into the real world" or "They need to leave home to figure that one out" or "Man, I can't wait until they have to do this one their own, so they realize...." Well, I've dressed them for years in preparation for this production, and now the stage is theirs alone to take. Well, here it is!  They are on their solo climb.  There is nothing like necessity to breed invention and self-assurance when you are climbing the mountains in life.  But hey, here I am also. The same can now be said of me the parent. I'm once again walking onto a stage without holding a hand.  (I will always hold their heart, but they make the production decisions now.) I'm looking through that window at what remains for me to create of this life.

2. Time is a good thing.  When your moments that string a life together slow down, it's a good thing.  Suddenly, I think I've earned the mountain treks and beach read days and volleyball nights and simple boating afternoons. I've earned a stroll with the dog and my granddaughter.

I've earned the luxury of belly laughing until tears run down my face on a road trip to a concert with the hubby and son. We relearn that our productivity doesn't define our value and that this one life is made of the moments that we create.

I remember the many crazy days that I felt like I had nothing to show for the weary that I was. Did Batman in every stage arranged on the dining table, Cheerios on the floor, toys strewn across the family room, bubbles spilled on the porch, dinner left on the counter, books still crowding couch space. and soccer cleats in the entryway mean I wasn't getting to what I was supposed to?

 

Or did it mean we were living the moments exactly as we chose to! Now, I refresh my mind that my worth isn't found in accomplishing a to do list of checked off items. Rather, my eternal purpose for that time in rearing young hearts and minds was already eternally validated just as this time now is. Now, it's time to hand over the reins and continue on the path with my own strong lead in hand.

3. Protection is a good thing. Even when logically I know I can't  protect my kids anymore like I used to when they were under my roof, I realize there still lies a low burning fire in my gut desire to do that. My husband remembers holding me back from finding my way on to that basketball court when a kid decided to football blindside my kid and knock him to the ground. On more than a few occasions, I wanted to teach young girls about respect and decency in speaking and including everyone. I barely reserved my need to say a thing or two about playing time on senior night to my child's high school soccer coach.  Is there a mom that hasn't had these Wolverine type claws a time or two or three? They know that when the big, bad world wolf starts huffing and puffing, they can always find their way home under my roof for a little chat, a long hug, and a pat on the backside before they get back in the game of life. When this world starts to knock their breath from them, and even though life may keep us in separate spaces, I can protect their hearts and minds as I cover them in prayer.

So, I'm continuing to smile about the view from the rear-view mirror, but I'm making sure I enjoy a clear look out the front window. I'm sure there will be more lessons I will have to continually remember now that all the kids are out of my house.