The Faces of Motherhood

I stumbled upon these half-written reflections that began on Mother's Day. My life is littered with unfinished projects, so in a rare burst of determination I decided to circle back and finish this one. Some of you may find kinship here.



Sometimes the doing takes hold so hard that quiet moments drag me off to some mindless distraction. Today, the distraction dragged me back to mindfulness. Even social media can be the all things that are worked together for good. Wonder of wonders.

As I scrolled through my Facebook newsfeed, I was struck by the many faces of motherhood. Women cradling newborns, tales of sleepless nights and toddler antics, bedside hospital vigils, celebrating plays and proms. So many snapshots and shared thoughts that reminded me of my journey as Mom. So many seasons - all of them simultaneously happy, hard, wondrous, tedious, heart-wrenching, mind-stretching, and somehow good for my soul by the mystery of the unseen Hand that held me.

Soon I was nudged back to real-time by tears painting picture upon picture across my older, life-worn face. Tears that longed for the simpler, exhausting days gone by. Streaks that celebrated the joys, mourned the griefs - some yet raw. Tears that declared I've not yet found a place of peace in the so-called empty nest season...

...mostly due to the unexpected season: watching our own moms, and others, age in ways that we celebrate, but also in ways that keep me up at night once again - anxious, wringing hands grasping for elusive wisdom. Who knew the same uncertainty that gripped those long ago firsts would resurface in caring for the generation who raised us?

What I once pictured as carefree, possibility-full days of walking alongside my kids and grandkids has been fraught with cares and dreams deferred. I wrestle to lay down my vision of this season. There's no grace in how it's looked - this struggle - but much grace surrounding me in it. I am trying to find stillness in this storm, to soak up mercy, comfort, wisdom, love.

Who am I in all this? What can I hope for and work toward? Questions that took flight even as our first child married have had no space or length of time to land as I've bounced from one major life event - or crisis - to another these past several years.

Who am I? How do I fit, how does the rest of life fit, in to the new normal of caregiver in perpetuity, for that is how it often feels: never-ending. In part, this is who I am, what I do well, what I'm called to in this season. But the responsibility overwhelms at times, and I am clumsily learning to navigate, delegate, and find healthy boundaries, instead of mentally curling up and giving up.

This is my face today. Acknowledging the joys and sorrows, the struggles, fears, confusion, clarity. So often trying to hide the weariness, anxiety, depression. Confessing the resentment and sad state of a malnourished soul, but lifting a chin to look up, and leaning an over-weighted shoulder into my Savior once more.

This has always been the face of motherhood for me.

The Long Mourning

It had already been an emotional morning -- revisiting another grief, decades old. But isn't that the way of grief? Sneaking into ordinary days that begin the same as every other: cooling coffee to the right, discarded cereal bowl to the left, morning paper refolded, and me scrolling for news of friends, enjoying insights, perusing photos...

My husband and I were not expecting the old loss to surface, both left wondering at a hidden significance in the timing. For as we wade through this season of midlife, taking lingering second looks at those roads less traveled, we know an increasing desire to invest in things that last. Even the prodding of an old wound can be an awakening. Such was the vein of my thoughts in the aftermath: patiently unresolved, sent up in prayer, waiting raw... a familiar place.

Now, coffee fresh, I resumed scrolling posts and pics, when I found myself stilled by a new photo...
My beautiful daughter. Tucked in close to husband and friends, her sparkling soul of a smile grabbed my heart and squeezed more tears.

Seven years since she first left home, then hometown, to the south, then southwest -- my grown up girl was on her way to yet another coast, a new home, a new adventure. This snapshot a piece of that journey. Her deeply loved family will settle far from here, once again. And even as I trust the Lord's directing her path, I felt every mile as a slow gouge across my heart... I'm so wrung out with goodbyes.

Standing in the kitchen sometime later, I felt it keenly -- life is the long mourning.

I've known it most profoundly as my children moved away. Each visit too brief. Each time to go chaffing the wound of the first goodbye. At least their childhood milestones kept them within arms reach, though they whispered a misty-eyed prelude to all that is now.

I've known it in hopes deferred. Relationships broken. Friends moved on, passed away, or caught in all manner of devastation. So much upheaval added to a lifetime of transitions. Season upon season, loss and change coming steadily, often leaving no time to process. Lives and issues demanding attention. No time to feel. Just move. Do. Now.

And always... the goodbyes.

Everyone's journey with loss etches differently, but is no less real. And I'm realizing that I often diminish my own pain, sweeping it away as pale in comparison to your pain... or their pain...
or suffering of global proportions. In doing so, my grief is shamed into some dark corner with no arms to comfort, no outlet for tears, no truth to lead it back to life and hope. The weight of it, unresolved, a silent shackle diminishing today's joy. And by deciding it does not matter, I am in effect saying
I don't matter.

This revelation brings a grief all it's own.

There is much stirring in these midlife days that I both welcome and want to run from. Healing requires revisiting storms past and a closer look at new issues swirling. All that wind... messing my hair... and messing with my emotions. I don't like either messed, but the hurts have been in disarray for a while. Hair is an easy fix. Maybe that's why I like doing hair.

I'm rambling now...

...and trying to make light of things that need light. That need honesty. That need a level of brave that has me on my tippy toes, longing for solid footing. Stretching for faith. Sorting through distractions that include voices, within and without, "Hurry up already!" Voices that throw out white-washing platitudes... "Let's just plaster you over with a few positive-thinking posters. Here's one with a Bible verse! There, now! Stand up straight so we can read your posters. We feel so much better now.
Don't you?"

We're all so uncomfortable with pain. Covering over is what we do, to ourselves and others.

Sigh...

Somewhere in this jumble of frustration and fear is a woman who longs to be set free of griefs deferred. To take hold of everything for which Christ has taken hold of her. To press on.

I know that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. He has redeemed me and calls me His own -- deeply loved, forgiven, accepted -- I do matter. And He's gently calling me to this heart-tending, lighting up dark corners, infinitely patient in my struggle. Amidst the storm, He will bring quiet, turning gusts to refreshing breezes as the Spirit bears truth and healing.

So, despite the desire to run away, I'll lean into Jesus, then lean into the wind, and keep on walking. Sometimes pressing on feels more like being pressed, but I know I'm safe, in Him, in the mess of
this long mourning.

Because of the LORD'S great love we are not consumed,

For His compassions never fail. They are new every morning;

great is Your faithfulness.

~Lamentations 3:22, 23

To everything there is a season,

A time for every purpose under heaven...

A time to weep,

And a time to laugh;

A time to mourn, 

And a time to dance. 

~Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4

 For all that gives rise to mourning, I am so thankful there remains a time to laugh.

  

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

How about you? Is your pain cast aside or covered over?

Are you running or leaning in?

I pray you'll let Jesus tend your heart.

His compassions never fail.  

Where Is Your Heart?

Where are you headed this year? 

More importantly...on it's present course, where is your heart headed?

Since I'm more of a be-er than a doer I tend to think of things through the lens of who I am and who I'm becoming as I journey in the doing. I am greatly encouraged and instructed by 1 Samuel 16:7... 

"Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” 

So my goals tend to be inward focused. "God, where is my heart? How is my heart? Where does it need to be...to go?"

I also want to consider where I am in life when forming expectations. Am I in transition? Am I grieving a loss? Is this a time of storm or calm? In the midst of it all, is my heart remaining anchored...am I drifting...or being blown off course? 

There will always be much doing...daily tasks, commitments to appointments, relationships, jobs, and areas of service. But in all that, how is my heart? Where is my heart? And where is my hope?

So now that the wave of preparation, activities and fun that marks each Christmas season has subsided, I have been longing to take a breath and reflect on where I am and where I'm going in this new year. 

Here is what I've realized as I've pondered in the quiet, and in the doing, over the past couple of weeks...

I’m still finding my sea legs for this new-ish journey of empty nesting (year two and holding steady); needing to find structure, but remain flexible. Same song as full time motherhood, I guess, but on an unfamiliar stage. I’ve dubbed this my New Middle School phase…with all the awkwardness and uncertainty that comes with being in between the old and the new. 

But in far greater hope, I remember that I survived those years the first time around without the benefit of life experience and deep faith. And I hear Jesus beckoning with a call that is also a promise, “Let us go over to the other side.” (Mark 4:35) I need to continue embracing all of this with honesty, trust, and patience knowing that I have those new morning mercies to cling to and a Savior that knows the way. 

He's calling me to persevere. He knows the way. He knows my heart. And He knows that I desire to always have my heart in His hands...my life, my coming and going, all things in His hands. I want to say, "With all my heart, I will follow Jesus," but I first need Him to show me where I'm keeping some of my heart to myself. And so I begin this new year...

Search me, O God, and know my heart; 

test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me, 

and lead me in the way everlasting.

 Pslam 139: 23,24 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

Where is your heart? 

On Being June Cleaver

It all started one Friday morning while I was fighting off a case of “Oh my word! I’m going to cry again!” Ugh! Seriously.

Two days before I’d stood outside the Little Rock airport having one of those tight-squeeze-that-lasts-forever hugs with my daughter Jillian. Why can’t all Air Force families whose wives happen to be my daughter just automatically get stationed to Fairchild AFB…for life? Why must adorable grandchildren live so many states away? My thoughts were as bleary as my eyes as I continually remembered those sweet little faces…the smiles…and the morning cuddles that I’d left behind. I can’t even linger there too long now…

Anyway…

After having spent a wonderful Thursday on an all day date with my husband, I was suddenly facing Friday...alone. In the quiet. In my stretchy pants. Only a pot of coffee to keep me company.

So I started tackling my most hated travel chore: unpacking. Stacks of clothes lay strewn about in the spare room and I was determined to get things in order. While sorting through the piles, starting laundry, having another cup of coffee - with some dark chocolate this time - and frittering on Facebook... 

...I hatched a silly plan.

Silly plans and silly days of frittering on Facebook do well at keeping the “I miss them so much, I think I’m just gonna sit here and cry” paralysis at bay. 

I remembered the red and cream skirt from the earlier unpacking, thought of a fun new outfit that would include the sweet black wedges I’d bought, and the new-millennial June Cleaver was born. 

What better way to spend the day than with June Cleaver? Perpetually put together. Perpetually cheerful. Perpetually in pearls. What could be better than done up hair, new shoes, and a sweet red skirt to chase away the blues? Who says that dress up and make believe are only for little girls?

And you know what? The rest of the day was a whirlwind of prancing around on those platforms, happy as a clam to be doing housework. Bantering June-style on Facebook. Coining the new WWJD – "What would June do?" 

...And meeting the laughing, approving eyes of my husband when he returned from work.

After having texted him the photo of the new June that afternoon he said I’d need to help him pick out a tie and sports coat for mowing the lawn on Saturday. Good man, that Ward. 

Ward and June are now not far from our consciousness. We bring them out when we need a little silly. And on Tuesday night Ward took June out for frozen yogurt. #wardandjunearedating

To be continued...

An Unexpected Blessing

As I walked through the Little Rock airport I wondered if saying goodbye would ever be easy. The prolonged hug outside the car. Trying to smile as I gave Cadence one last wave… Fighting back tears, I found myself grateful for the distraction of all the “take off your shoes…put your laptop in the bin” security procedures. Next up: a tall Pike Place with room for cream, a few posts on Facebook, and a call for Zone 2 to begin boarding. 

I entered the small commuter plane and quickly slipped past the young man in Seat 2B to settle into 2A. As he sat back down he asked where I was headed. “Spokane, Washington.” How about you? “I’m going to Minnesota to meet my girlfriend’s parent for the first time.” “How exciting!”

It’s not often that a young person strikes up a conversation with, well…someone my age, and I was immediately struck by his easy manner and the genuine light in his clear green eyes. As we prepared for take off then headed toward Memphis he continued to share, “I was a meth addict at 16…my dad’s an alcoholic…I’ve had four step-dads.” I soon learned that his addiction led to rehab at Teen Challenge and a life-changing encounter with Jesus. Double freedom. After rehab he’d signed up for DTS (Discipleship Training School) with YWAM (Youth With A Mission). It was there that he met Sarah. Though from a more stable family, she’d also fought demons of her own. He went on to share how God had brought them together…more details than I’ll share here, but it made me smile as it all poured forth from this very grateful, red-haired young man who is still amazed at God’s goodness.

After each sharing bits of our stories with one another, we finally exchanged names. He is Drew and he’ll “be 19 in three weeks.” He works with youth at his local church and loves to go back to Teen Challenge to volunteer and give back to those who gave so much to him. In September he’ll be back working with YWAM, assisting with the new DTS students. He and Sarah know that they have much to learn and much yet to be healed in their lives, but they have good mentors and a great Savior. We parted with a promise to pray for one another.

Landing in Memphis I thanked God for - a safe landing, of course - and for this work of Providence. “Youth with a mission.” In light of eternity, I’m still very young. That thirty-minute conversation was a comforting reminder that though my time in Little Rock was done, the Lord still has so many other appointments for me, so many opportunities to listen, to encourage and to pray for others.

Thank you Jesus and thank you, Drew. Godspeed.

Goodbyes...

Today I am pondering goodbyes. I am beginning to see that much of life is about saying goodbye...and learning to do it well.

Goodbye can mean "I’ll see you soon" or “I’ll see you in heaven,” and everything in between. In the past several years this has become more poignant as I’ve been parted from dear friends that I have loved and ministered with. Some have been called to minister elsewhere nearby, some have been sent on grand adventures of faith hundreds of miles away. Others have lived out their days here on earth and have been called to their eternal home. And most recently, I have had to say goodbye…one by one…to my children and their spouses as they have followed their given paths away from home.

My preparation for these goodbyes began many years ago with “seasons” of friendship. Can you look back on your life and notice that there were people that you were closely connected with - perhaps in school, or while your children were small, on a job, or in ministry - but as time and life’s events took your journeys elsewhere, the proximity of that friendship was gone? I’m not talking about having a falling out, but perhaps more of a calling out. At first I would try to hang on so tightly and force a relationship to stay, but I began to see that some relationships were there to nurture a season of life, to truly just propel me on to the next leg of my journey. There are also some that, despite distance, will be life-long and, truth be told, I don’t think we get to pick which ones are which.

Every one of us has a journey. If I love you I will walk the stretch of the road with you that is mine to walk and when the crossroad comes, I will bid you farewell…praying that you do “fare well” wherever you are called. Your life is not mine to hold tightly, but it may have been mine to encourage for a time. And at the end of the day, I just want to be faithful to that for I am so eternally grateful for those who’ve walked those stretches of road with me. It may have been a matter of years or just a few conversations, but each life that’s touched mine has made an impact. Even those that have caused hurt and pain have been used for God’s greater purpose.

Years before my children ever had the glimmer of a calling, be it marriage or other life adventures, I began praying that I would be able to let go of them gracefully and graciously. (Grace being the operative word.) Especially being a mom-at-home, my life and “career" has been so closely identified with their lives. But my goal as a parent was always to propel them toward adulthood. Even when they were younger, to challenge them to look beyond immediate gratification and not just learn practical skills for adulthood, but begin to have a vision of themselves as, in their case, a man and as women. It was so good to choose to celebrate their milestones, to allow for rites of passage that were meaningful and intentional, but in the back of my mind was the knowledge that one day all of this must culminate in “goodbye.”

And how intensely do we love our children? I have often thought of mine as “burned into my heart"...like a brand. My heart is forever changed by having given birth and by having done life with them. The joys of victory and the agonies of defeat…and all the ordinary days in between. I love them in ways that words fail to fully capture and that is fitting, because they were never meant to be captured. True love is huge and holds it’s hands outstretched, it is never tight-fisted. My kids were created by God for their own journeys and if I love them, I will shout, “fly…fly!” even if the next minute I must bury my head in my hands and cry. I must bear the sorrow of goodbye so I can watch them stand, and struggle, and grow, and embrace all that life has for them.

And, so too with my friends. Sometimes I have seen God take a friend out of my life so that I will learn to stand without them, and stand more fully in Him. Or so that I will have eyes to see a new relationship that He’s ordained for me. Even as an extravert I can get pretty content with my little circle of close friends and fail to see someone new who is just waiting for a fresh companion. And most often, He is calling my loved ones to a new adventure and I can either focus on my sadness at having to say goodbye, or love them well through the sadness by continuing to encourage…standing at the curb-side waving with all my might and wishing them a safe and amazing journey.

As I grow older, I have begun to see the beauty and purpose behind the ebb and flow of life...and lives. It’s sole purpose is life, and life to the full. A seed must fall to the ground and die in order to bear much fruit. This is the order of life. And so often this means that my ordering of life must die, and I must learn to say goodbye in a way that joyfully says “fly!” When someone leaves there is always a hole left behind, but isn’t that where new plants are nestled? In fresh holes? The trick is not missing new blooms because we’re still staring down the road at a set of taillights. Do we acknowledge our sorrow? Of course. But we can bear it a little better each time as we come to see that life is not about hanging on to things or people.

So today as I began the day skyping with my daughter and her kids in Arkansas, then did the same with a beloved friend in California, and also learned of a dear couple who have been called on to their next adventure, I have stopped to ponder all this, to let the sadness wash over me with each goodbye, and at the thought of that "farewell" to come...and I know it's all going to be ok. Goodbye is ok, even when we love much and it hurts.

We can love deeply and learn to say goodbye, because sometimes they are the same thing.

Messy Days

Here I sit, glued to this old worn kitchen chair exchanging text messages with my sick, exhausted, pregnant daughter who is 2000 miles away. This seems such an unnatural place, sitting with cell phone and laptop in my ridiculous fleecy blue bathrobe with nothing to do but pray and send words of encouragement. 

Why am I here and not there? There is where I want to be. Hugging my daughter. Chasing her daughter so she doesn’t have to. Helping them settle into their new temporary home. My heart and my hands are so restless today.

And the irony does not escape me. Today I long to be a doer. This one who loves to just “be” is aching to do, to actively and physically be “mom.” Will this transition ever be easy? Kissing boo boos seems almost holy, sacramental, today. Taking that precious little one in my arms, washing her wound, applying a balm of Neosporin and a sticky Band Aid, all the while the emotional and spiritual flow of love doing the real healing, the heart-comforting. 

Oh God, I miss the beauty of that simple act... 

I’m so far away.

My new job is to ache, and to wait, and to pray. This seems harder work than what came before, though I’m sure it only seems so. My mind can recall that vague impression of young motherhood when everything was truly a new thing that brought new fears. “Oh God! What do I do now?” And I know there were days when I longed to be far away from the daily grind of caring for my children’s needs 24/7. Rarely a day off. Always on call. I could never have known then just how awkward and heart wrenching it would feel when that became the norm, not just a vacation.

I suppose I share all this for many reasons. It’s as real and on my heart as anything inspirational or humorous may be on any other given day. And these difficult days are part of the journey. 

Do we share only the happy and the uplifting? In reality, I hope this will be uplifting. Perhaps this is your journey too. If it is, this is my written hug to say, yes, other women have days like this. You’re not alone. Some are experiencing this transition with less angst, or at least they seem to be. Does that mean they’re doing it better? No. They’re just doing it differently. Some may be running from the flood of emotion. I don’t run anymore. I have found that I can rest in the Lord’s promise, 

“ When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. 

When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown.” 

Isaiah 43:2 NLT 

I actually used to be terrified of the water, and of these days of uncertainty and change, but I have found the Lord to be faithful. 

He calms my fears.

Though the floodwaters are high today, I know I will not drown. I will ache, and wait, and pray. It may not look pretty and I may not do it well, but I won’t fight it. 

“Wait for the LORD; 

Be strong and let your heart take courage; 

Yes, wait for the LORD.” 

Psalm 27:14 NASB 

I love this rendering.
 “Let your heart take courage.” 

I have a choice today in the waiting. 

I can let my heart take courage. 

On a messy day like today the Lord is saying, “I have courage for you, precious one. Be encouraged.” And I am. My tears are gone and peace is returning. The balm of His love is healing. 

Whatever your mess today, I pray you will be encouraged too.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, 

so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” 

Romans 15:13 NIV 

Musings from the empty nest...

Life is full of conflicting emotions these days and they seem to echo more loudly in our extreme empty nest. With three children, all married, all now living out of town, we find ourselves alone for the first time in over twenty-six years. And with a house full of hardwood floors, the silence seems just as loud as all the years of commotion. Where once we fought for order and sanity, we now fight off the persistent melancholy. And it is not just my struggle; we are both feeling and processing these changes with all the inherent awkwardness of newbies. The mid-life “middle school” experience, knowing we are growing into the next phase of life, but just not comfortable in this new skin yet. Fortunately there is not the same fear of looking stupid or not fitting in, just an honesty in admitting that we sometimes feel stupid and don’t quite know where we fit. Many have come before us in this transition - some may have felt it less keenly, some have perhaps been devastated. But this journey is new to us and we’re just figuring it all out day by day. It is what it is, and there really need be no point of comparison. 

As we enter this season of winter it seems a bit more cold and harsh. No kids’ excitement over the first snow to soften the edges, no girls to insist that we should get the Christmas stuff out. Am I allowed to confess that I don’t “love” Christmas? Well, I just did. If you find that blasphemous, so be it. My kids found it exasperating too at times, so I eventually let them take over the decorating. Their holiday spirit always lifted mine. And there was always “snowflake night.” This I did love…even more than Christmas morning. Gathering with the kids, Ty putting lights around the front window, music playing, lightheartedness and laughter, specs of white cutouts everywhere, and at night’s end, that lovely arch of fresh cut snowflakes in the window. A visual reminder of each persons’ uniqueness coming together in a collage of oneness; a season-long reminder of the blessings of family.

This year, snowflake night will be different, just like everything else. I'll mail out snowflake kits so the kids can send us some for the front window, and we’ll likely invite some other loved ones to join us for our night of cutting. Perhaps Ty will still groom our sloped backyard with sledding runs…for some other young families to enjoy. It is very likely that none of our kids will be here for Christmas. It is a new season. So how do we keep some of the sameness of traditions and still allow for the fact that things will never be the same? And who will decorate for Christmas this year? Should we finally get an artificial tree or return to our favorite tree lot? Will it be fun or sad to go without the kids? Shall I host Christmas dinner like I have for most of the past twenty years, or should we lay low and do something different? No matter what we do this year, it all may feel forced and unnatural...but anything new feels that way at first. Some days we'll just feel sad. That's ok. Guess we’ll just roll with it, day by day, moment by moment.

All of these changes truly are wrapped in a conflict of emotions. For while we trudge through this winter of change, we acknowledge that we are so happy and blessed by our kids, their spouses, and their new lives. We have a precious grand daughter…and, surely, more to come. We have one another, new adventures on the horizon, and we have the Lord. He never changes. He has been faithful to carry us through nearly thirty years of marriage…years of joy, sorrow, laughter, anger, blessing, bitterness, hardship, hope, and healing. It has been a real life, and it still is. We have so much yet to learn.

It is good that, as a couple, we are talking and praying together over this crazy new season. Those vows we took so long ago have been highlighted with each recent wedding. Good reminders that the seasons of life are what we pledged to one another. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part. And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness.” These vows should remain fresh. ”To have and to hold from this dayforward..." This day of change, of awkwardness, and encroaching sadness. Everyday is “this day” renewed. So, on this day we can hold each other and let the Lord hold us as we poke around and get acquainted with our new home – the empty nest.

To be continued…

Tears 2: A New Season

I began this note on Monday morning with tears freely flowing, but was interrupted by a phone call from Monica and Danny that, on their way to Medford, they'd had a fender bender (literally) in Kennewick. So I, of course, put on my calm, cool, and collected hat immediately and got down to helping with the situation at hand. That's what I do. I'm a mom. But these Monday feelings have been resting just below the surface for the past few days as I have watched their progress in finally getting to their destination. I know that when I get home the reality of it all will seem, well,  un-real. Ah, life's transitions. It's Gumby time again. And so I share:

Monday 10.10.11

As I fought down sobs putting on my makeup today, I was struck with the irony that a little over a year ago I was in this very place trying to put on makeup through tears last year. I was preparing to leave Jill, Jake, and one month old Cadence to begin my life as a long distance gramma and I wrote a note called "Tears." This morning I was saying goodbye as my last little bird, Monica, flew the "forest" for the place that the Lord has prepared for her and her husband Danny, and here I am in Pensacola once again. And once again, Ty and I are parted for this final goodbye. 

I've pretty much been a puddle since last night, knowing that they were having dinner with his parents and Ty, knowing that the U-Haul was packed and ready, knowing that they were sleeping in our basement spare bed...so close to home, but so far from me. It is one thing to intellectually consent to the idea that your children are leaving, and quite another to say goodbye. I've known for years that none of them would live in Spokane for very long, but that hasn't made this tearing away any easier on my heart.

(This reverie is now interrupted by the fender bender and some days to think on these things.)

Thursday 10.13.11

Our children's lives were once so contained within our lives. Moving from grade to grade, having friends over, plays, games, activities, concerts. Helping them navigate growing up, but still having a bit of control over their environment. And if "control" is the wrong word, then at least having more of the decision making authority even while slowly giving that over to them. Little did we know then, but our desire and need to pray for them would only grow with time. 

Today as I reflected on the dynamics of all the changes that have touched our lives in the last 3-5 years I realized that, though Ty and I have emptied our nest, our children's lives have almost taken on an exponential effect. No longer are they individual children under our care, but they are married children, each with an entire universe of a life of their own. So in our equation of family with three kids we've gone from, let's say, "3x" to "x cubed" or x^3. (Sorry if you don't follow the math analogy, but if x=3, then 3x3=9, but 3 cubed=3x3x3=27. Add two sons-in-law, a daughter-in-law, and grandkids, and that equation continues to grow.) Granted, on a day to day basis, we aren't dealing with raising them, but their lives in the adult world of marriage, children, school, and work are larger and more complicated. Thus our need to let go and let them live independently becomes a more difficult challenge. And we must let go if they are to be strengthened by their own adversity and enjoy the full freedom of adulthood, but it ain't easy. It's tough love of another sort, I guess. Maintaining that balance of being available, but not under foot. 

And so I will return to Spokane in less than a week to a very quiet house, and a quieter town. Ty and I will look at each other and likely laugh and shake our heads. What a ride the past few years have been. What a ride the past few weeks have been. I know that there will be more tears here and there as well. That's ok. Those tears will fall and water the seeds of what is next. I've been reading in Isaiah for the past few mornings. This passage hit home: 

“Forget the former things; 

   do not dwell on the past. 

See, I am doing a new thing! 

   Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? 

I am making a way in the wilderness 

   and streams in the wasteland." ~Is 43:18,19 

I welcome His work, hard as it may be sometimes. And I do not want to miss the new things He has planned. Fall even seems a fitting season for this season of our lives. A time when what was new dies away so that what will be can come forth. As I prepare to return home I look forward to spending time with Ty, perhaps that long awaited date at a favorite coffee shop, and to be face to face sharing our feelings of "oh my goodness!" or as he so aptly said the other night over the phone, to "just be." Be together. Be in the moment. Be facing tomorrow together. When the tears spring forth again, we'll let them come. We're both kind of sappy and sentimental. We'll just sop them up with a scone, take another sip of coffee, and look forward to Spring.

On "Becoming the Real Me"

I read a blog today. The title made me curious: "Becoming the Real Me." The author talked about taking the time to discover your passions and the Lord's purpose for your life. Have I done this? Well, I just turned forty-nine and married off my last child. So after twenty-five years of being a full time mom and nearly twenty-nine as a wife, I am now entering into the proverbial "empty nest." It is a good time to reflect and seek the Lord for this next season of my life. Truth is, I have been preparing for this transition for a while now. I've prayed for grace to let my children go. I've given thought and prayer to what is next. Though not still a mom in that ever-busy 24/7 manner, I am still a wife and I look forward to having more time to spend with my husband. And I do have dreams I'd like to pursue. Have I become the real me? Yes...and not yet.  

When I was only sixteen I knew the Lord's call on my life was to be a wife and mother. And specifically to be home with my children full time. It was a radical call in the early 80s - to forego the pursuit of a career and outward status, and as an honor student, to disappoint my parents and teachers by not finishing college, to continually answer the question from other women, "So what do you do all day?" No power suits. No title. No cushy paycheck. Married at twenty and a mother by twenty-three, I was well on my way, yet I did have to grapple with these issues. After all, I was still becoming an adult, forming my preferences, and sometimes feeling unsure about life. Who was I? And more importantly, how did I see myself? Would I define my worth by what others thought or said, or would I forge ahead boldly on the path that had been given me? Would I be forever cowed by others comments, or learn to be dance in my own skin, following my own Drummer? It was good to wrestle with these things, for definition came and with it a clarity of vision that helped me embrace all the joys and challenges that would follow. During those early years of motherhood the Lord gave me the first scripture verse I ever memorized. "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your path straight." (Proverbs 3:5,6) These verses are just as much a beacon to me now as they were then, like an inner north star when I might have lost my way. To dive into them now would require an entirely separate essay, so I'll leave you to meditate on them yourself. Only He can show you your path.

Some might say that I gave up a lot in pursuing this domestic life, but I can say with complete honesty that being a wife and mother has not put "me" on hold at all. It has enriched who I am, challenging me to the very depth of my soul and to the outer limits of my intellect. It has shown me the beauty of being a woman, which has been wonderful for this former tomboy who once thought it would be way cooler to be a boy. I have found that everything that has come into my life - everything! - has prepared me to receive the next blessing or challenge. I can look back and know that nothing was wasted. No grief, no joy, no bout of depression, no sleepless night, no day of silliness, no aching heart. As I've sought Him in all these moments, I have discovered my passions. First and foremost, my passion for Him which fills my heart with peace, my life with meaning, and keeps my motives as pure as possible. As a young woman I only dreamed of knowing the Lord so intimately. Now He is my greatest joy. And over the years He has continued to call me in ways that have either terrified me or stretched me to the limit. But each new adventure has been pivotal in growing my faith and in ultimately bringing joy and satisfaction. Emphasis on ultimately. Many journeys required years of waiting or rubber "faith" boots for trudging through messiness and deep weeds. He showed me recently that the call I had from Him as a teenager to be "a happy wife and mother" was more than just a call for a season. It is a call to be a mentor and discipler of others for my whole life. To nuture and care for those in my path so that they might know Him intimately. To encourage those younger that they willfind their way, or be able to love their husband, or find a way to balance keeping their house and keeping their sanity. I can definitely wrap my head around that. You see, that is also one of my passions.

The Lord gave me a creative bent and a love of language. I have been drawing, making music, and reading since I was very young. I was just beginning formal art studies when I found out that I was pregnant with my first child. Not being type A enough to want to juggle home and school, I turned my attention to preparing to be a mother. Then as as my children grew, I unleashed my silliness on them and encouraged their creativity. I have continued to read classics and other thought provoking books throughout the years. It's not always easy to take a vacation when you have young children, but you can get lost in a book for just a little while, at least long enough to enrich your perspective and have a view of the larger context of life outside of runny noses and endless loads of laundry. So after twenty-five years I have no great works of art nor books of verse to my name, but if you look closely at my children you will see marks of creativity. Though they are the Lord's, somewhere in their bent of personality or in the curve of their smile, my name is etched. They are surely burned into my heart forever. I have also discovered that my early love of literature has not been wasted, for I look at life and see poetry, irony, metaphor and simile. I see great themes playing out before me in the world, within my family, in the lives of my friends. I have been able to fall in love with God's word not only for it's revealing of His heart and mind, but for it's depth and imagery and beauty. And on occasion, I have been able to capture lyrics on a page as they sang through my mind. Worshiping the Lord in song, whether at home on my little upright or on a grand piano with scores of others, is one of my greatest joys; praising the One who is the eternal Creator and who's life giving words spoke everything into existence.

Have I become the real me? Have I discovered His purpose for me? The answer is both yes and not yet. I have fulfilled one of my greatest desires - to raise my children by pouring my life into theirs, by stretching myself and my faith in front of them so that they could see that it was worthwhile to do so, and by loving them and seeking their forgiveness when I blew it royally so that they could learn how to forgive, and live, and love well in this messy thing we call life on earth. I have been tutor, helper, leader, counselor, receptionist, bookkeeper, even barista. I have hunkered down and fought for my marriage when the going got tough. For though I was not always a "happy" wife, I thank God that I was a determined wife. I am glad for the "ultimate" joy in staying married and now reaping the rewards of His healing and purpose for us, not just me. So am I done? Is it glide and abide time? Not a chance! There is so much left to discover, so many more adventures and relationships to pursue, dreams to rekindle. Will I write? Well, that has certainly always been a dream. Will I create works of art? I'm thinking that might be fun. Will I keep singing? As long as I have breath. And I'm a grandma now! How fun is that?!

Next year I will turn fifty. That's pretty exciting to me because each new decade of my life has been better than the last. In a healthy and realistic way, I like who I've become as I've shed unhealthy "skin" over the years and replaced it with better thoughts, attitudes and actions. I'm certainly not perfect, but I'm ok with that. I regularly lay those flaws at my Savior's feet. It is His power that works in me to will and to act according to His good purpose (Phillippians 2:13) and it is my desire to live in His purpose. My constant imperfections only highlight God's perfection and His mercy in forgiving me and calling me to Himself, which then unleashes all kinds of thankfulness. It is good to be His daughter. So I think I'll just keep leaning into Him and His understanding. Trusting Him has been working well so far, just like He promised. He knows the plans He has for me, so I'm just going to keep it real and be myself and follow where He leads me now.