I’m entering new territory over here and I’m not sure that I like it at all. Today was another last that represented a first. Maybe I should explain.
Today I took my last trip to the DMV with one of my children. I sat for the last time and waited in anticipation as my last child completed her driver’s test. It is the last time that I will sit there and have my child’s whole life flash before me, wondering where it went and how I got to be here. It was the last time I will hand over this rite of passage on the end of a keychain to one of my offspring.
Another chapter of parenting is turning the last page.
And for her, it is a first. A first trip to Target alone. {Even though she hates to shop alone!} A first quiet ride, with no one critiquing her skills. A first taste of freedom that she has earned and that she deserves. This first is sweet. And I take delight in watching her giddy with anticipation.
I promise, she didn’t know that behind the camera lens, behind the sunglasses, I was welling up like a baby. She’s better off not knowing. I’d hate for her to feel guilty or torn- between wanting a little freedom and feeling bad that her leaving today represents a whole lot more to me than a solo trip to Target.
I have raised her to take flight.
And, darn it...she is!
There is an unspoken knowing between us. And she gets it. My knowing that I have to loosen my grip, and her knowing that it hurts. We both welled up with tears. Her’s of joy and anticipation...mine, in reflection of knowing that it is a foreshadowing of what is to come.
No matter how much you think you are preparing yourself for their flight...it’s never enough. And I’ve only ever experienced this "flying from the nest" as a single mom, so I guess I can only feel it from this perspective. And all I know is that it hurts. And it conjures up emotions and thoughts that I’d rather not feel or admit. Yet I park myself right there in the middle of them and settle in for a good cry.
But this is part of the raw reality of single parenting. And when you can wrap up those remaining years with your child in just a couple handfuls of months, it’s time to face the truth.
The truth is, the phrase "empty nest" looks differently for the single parent than for the married parent. I know it is painful from whichever perspective you see it from. But from my vantage point, "empty nest" represents a totally silent house, meals alone and a lot of empty space on my calendar. Facing the truth of single parenting means that at the end of the road, when all the caps and gowns have been put away- when you’ve given your blessing for them to fly...what remains is just you.
I have never known it was possible to be filled up so full with contradicting emotions. I didn’t know it was possible to be so proud of three little people who became three wonderful, big people. I didn’t know that in all of that fullness and joy there was still room for the anguish of watching them become independent. How is it even possible that there is that much room inside me? And how will I continue on when the last of my children no longer needs me on a daily basis? Who will I be important to then?
{SHUDDER}
I wrote all of that a week ago.
And I might have spit it out onto my keyboard like venom. Eyes blurry with tears, seeing nothing but what was in front of me. I had lost perspective. And I was indulging in a big pity-party. It's a tendency of mine to look beyond the immediate and into the future. Maybe because every day I am that much closer to the inevitable. It's like the accident scene you don't really want to look at, but you do anyway...and then you can't stop thinking about what you've seen.
I've spent a good part of this week reminding myself to
live in the moment
stop borrowing tomorrow's trouble
get over it
grow up
It is a continual battle to hold each thought captive and not dwell on what is not relevant to today. But when you are caught off guard with the sight of your woman-child walking you into new territory, you cannot help but remember that
The. Day. Is. Coming.
And I feel like I need to be ready. But I also need to stand in balance. Somewhere between being chill and preparing myself there is a good place for me to stand still. Between allowing anxious thoughts and being in total denial, there is a place called contentment. I forget all about that place sometimes. There's been a lot of reasons in the last six months for me to become so forgetful. Between marrying off my eldest child, sending my middle son to become a Marine and now the youngest one testing out her independence, it's been a full few months packed with a lot of emotion.
But last week, in my state of paralysis, when I couldn’t seem to see beyond a future of doing life alone, I had to shake my thoughts back to the present. To make the choice to be content in today.
And so I breathe deeply because it's a new day. And there is a girl in my house who calls me mom and she still needs me to be present. I know we are still walking in new territory, and I don't like it any more than I did last week. But today, when I can finally see from a new perspective, I can honestly say I am content again. Not because things have changed...they haven't- reality is lurking just around the corner. But because I am choosing to take my thoughts captive and not dwell in the fears of the future, there is a measure of contentment that has settled over me. And for that I am grateful.
Today I took my last trip to the DMV with one of my children. I sat for the last time and waited in anticipation as my last child completed her driver’s test. It is the last time that I will sit there and have my child’s whole life flash before me, wondering where it went and how I got to be here. It was the last time I will hand over this rite of passage on the end of a keychain to one of my offspring.
Another chapter of parenting is turning the last page.
And for her, it is a first. A first trip to Target alone. {Even though she hates to shop alone!} A first quiet ride, with no one critiquing her skills. A first taste of freedom that she has earned and that she deserves. This first is sweet. And I take delight in watching her giddy with anticipation.
I promise, she didn’t know that behind the camera lens, behind the sunglasses, I was welling up like a baby. She’s better off not knowing. I’d hate for her to feel guilty or torn- between wanting a little freedom and feeling bad that her leaving today represents a whole lot more to me than a solo trip to Target.
I have raised her to take flight.
And, darn it...she is!
There is an unspoken knowing between us. And she gets it. My knowing that I have to loosen my grip, and her knowing that it hurts. We both welled up with tears. Her’s of joy and anticipation...mine, in reflection of knowing that it is a foreshadowing of what is to come.
No matter how much you think you are preparing yourself for their flight...it’s never enough. And I’ve only ever experienced this "flying from the nest" as a single mom, so I guess I can only feel it from this perspective. And all I know is that it hurts. And it conjures up emotions and thoughts that I’d rather not feel or admit. Yet I park myself right there in the middle of them and settle in for a good cry.
But this is part of the raw reality of single parenting. And when you can wrap up those remaining years with your child in just a couple handfuls of months, it’s time to face the truth.
The truth is, the phrase "empty nest" looks differently for the single parent than for the married parent. I know it is painful from whichever perspective you see it from. But from my vantage point, "empty nest" represents a totally silent house, meals alone and a lot of empty space on my calendar. Facing the truth of single parenting means that at the end of the road, when all the caps and gowns have been put away- when you’ve given your blessing for them to fly...what remains is just you.
I have never known it was possible to be filled up so full with contradicting emotions. I didn’t know it was possible to be so proud of three little people who became three wonderful, big people. I didn’t know that in all of that fullness and joy there was still room for the anguish of watching them become independent. How is it even possible that there is that much room inside me? And how will I continue on when the last of my children no longer needs me on a daily basis? Who will I be important to then?
{SHUDDER}
I wrote all of that a week ago.
And I might have spit it out onto my keyboard like venom. Eyes blurry with tears, seeing nothing but what was in front of me. I had lost perspective. And I was indulging in a big pity-party. It's a tendency of mine to look beyond the immediate and into the future. Maybe because every day I am that much closer to the inevitable. It's like the accident scene you don't really want to look at, but you do anyway...and then you can't stop thinking about what you've seen.
I've spent a good part of this week reminding myself to
live in the moment
stop borrowing tomorrow's trouble
get over it
grow up
It is a continual battle to hold each thought captive and not dwell on what is not relevant to today. But when you are caught off guard with the sight of your woman-child walking you into new territory, you cannot help but remember that
The. Day. Is. Coming.
And I feel like I need to be ready. But I also need to stand in balance. Somewhere between being chill and preparing myself there is a good place for me to stand still. Between allowing anxious thoughts and being in total denial, there is a place called contentment. I forget all about that place sometimes. There's been a lot of reasons in the last six months for me to become so forgetful. Between marrying off my eldest child, sending my middle son to become a Marine and now the youngest one testing out her independence, it's been a full few months packed with a lot of emotion.
But last week, in my state of paralysis, when I couldn’t seem to see beyond a future of doing life alone, I had to shake my thoughts back to the present. To make the choice to be content in today.
And so I breathe deeply because it's a new day. And there is a girl in my house who calls me mom and she still needs me to be present. I know we are still walking in new territory, and I don't like it any more than I did last week. But today, when I can finally see from a new perspective, I can honestly say I am content again. Not because things have changed...they haven't- reality is lurking just around the corner. But because I am choosing to take my thoughts captive and not dwell in the fears of the future, there is a measure of contentment that has settled over me. And for that I am grateful.
"A cheerful spirit is one of the most valuable gifts ever bestowed upon humanity by a kind Creator. It is the sweetest and most fragrant flower of the Spirit, that constantly sends out its beauty and fragrance, and blesses everything within its reach. It will sustain the soul in the darkest and most dreary places of this world. It will hold in check the demons of despair, and stifle the power of discouragement and hopelessness. It is the brightest star that ever cast its radiance over the darkened soul, and one that seldom sets in the gloom of morbid fancies and forboding imaginations."
James H. Aughey
"No matter what looms ahead,
if you can eat today, enjoy today,
mix good cheer with friends today
enjoy it and bless God for it."
Henry Ward Beecher
