How long have I waited until the hustle and chaos of the school year ends? Imagining a rest, a quiet, a complete repose that is well deserved.
The school year had its drama, as well as its victories- from receiving an excellent grade on a grad school test I studied long and hard over, to telling my 17 year old daughter to change, again- those jeans are far too tight. From encouraging my teen age girls to eat some breakfast before their long morning at school only to hear how they can't eat so early. I remember 4:30 a.m. feedings with them when they were babies, cherishing the absolute stillness and softness of both home and infant, not being able to imagine that tiny life I was feeding to ever be any bigger than my arms; wondering how it happens that a perfectly formed baby becomes a teen ager, ready to conquer the world with the typical teen mind that says, "I know it all".
This past school year brought on unexpected challenges, not unfamiliar to my family, as we meet what we were not prepared for often. But in the scope of what I had imagined as being the time line of my children's life, how it would easily travel from one event to another, in the order I had planned since giving birth to my little ones, this shift from what I had visualize- I was unprepared. For example, academically focused, this time line would start with elementary school, good grades and wonderful memories and friends, to high school, graduating in the top of the senior class, with scholarships, and plans of being a doctor, a missionary, a nurse, a pastor, and the ever smooth, ever determined step to college. I would cry as each one drove off in their own car, and wave until I lost sight of them down the road.
My reality- dropping out of high school to get his GED, attempting college 4 times, and each time dropping out, deciding the job pays too well to ever go to college, one choosing to homeschool some of her high school years, and two of my other girls wanting to join her. I will have 3 teen girls homeschooling this coming year! This is not what my mental time line predicted. There has been nothing easy or smooth about these high school years. I rarely, if ever, traveled along a straight line of events. It has been bumpy, dangerous, and full of peaks and valleys. I have been humbled-in the sense of having a deep, unmistakable feeling that I am completely incompetent to raise my children any longer.
But here we are now, today, sitting still in June, summer break, a chance to reflect and breath, to enjoy long runs again, library books, slow cooked meals, windows wide open with white sheer curtains dancing in the breeze. Here I am, alone in my house for a bit, all the other members of my family working, or here and there.
I find a deep uncertainty in my bosom of where time will bring us. I must rest this summer. I must find tranquility in the mundane, in the unexpected, in the acceptance of life not going as I had planned, so many years ago, when my new born babies were each gently placed into my longing arms, and I cried for their beauty, and set out to make it all happen like it should.
I am a vapor, as nothing, in the big scheme of life. I have power over no other soul but my own. Self-reflection can be a cruel and depressing activity, but I am plummeted into more times than I wish- this summer especially- as my young adult children are reforming me- transforming me- as a mother- as a woman- without even realizing it.
I give up my self-created, self-ambitious, wanting great success for each of my children in the way I imagine success to be, time line. I embrace the unknown, the spontaneous, the vastly obscure roads my children choose to take.
Stillness in the midst of change.
The school year had its drama, as well as its victories- from receiving an excellent grade on a grad school test I studied long and hard over, to telling my 17 year old daughter to change, again- those jeans are far too tight. From encouraging my teen age girls to eat some breakfast before their long morning at school only to hear how they can't eat so early. I remember 4:30 a.m. feedings with them when they were babies, cherishing the absolute stillness and softness of both home and infant, not being able to imagine that tiny life I was feeding to ever be any bigger than my arms; wondering how it happens that a perfectly formed baby becomes a teen ager, ready to conquer the world with the typical teen mind that says, "I know it all".
This past school year brought on unexpected challenges, not unfamiliar to my family, as we meet what we were not prepared for often. But in the scope of what I had imagined as being the time line of my children's life, how it would easily travel from one event to another, in the order I had planned since giving birth to my little ones, this shift from what I had visualize- I was unprepared. For example, academically focused, this time line would start with elementary school, good grades and wonderful memories and friends, to high school, graduating in the top of the senior class, with scholarships, and plans of being a doctor, a missionary, a nurse, a pastor, and the ever smooth, ever determined step to college. I would cry as each one drove off in their own car, and wave until I lost sight of them down the road.
My reality- dropping out of high school to get his GED, attempting college 4 times, and each time dropping out, deciding the job pays too well to ever go to college, one choosing to homeschool some of her high school years, and two of my other girls wanting to join her. I will have 3 teen girls homeschooling this coming year! This is not what my mental time line predicted. There has been nothing easy or smooth about these high school years. I rarely, if ever, traveled along a straight line of events. It has been bumpy, dangerous, and full of peaks and valleys. I have been humbled-in the sense of having a deep, unmistakable feeling that I am completely incompetent to raise my children any longer.
But here we are now, today, sitting still in June, summer break, a chance to reflect and breath, to enjoy long runs again, library books, slow cooked meals, windows wide open with white sheer curtains dancing in the breeze. Here I am, alone in my house for a bit, all the other members of my family working, or here and there.
I find a deep uncertainty in my bosom of where time will bring us. I must rest this summer. I must find tranquility in the mundane, in the unexpected, in the acceptance of life not going as I had planned, so many years ago, when my new born babies were each gently placed into my longing arms, and I cried for their beauty, and set out to make it all happen like it should.
I am a vapor, as nothing, in the big scheme of life. I have power over no other soul but my own. Self-reflection can be a cruel and depressing activity, but I am plummeted into more times than I wish- this summer especially- as my young adult children are reforming me- transforming me- as a mother- as a woman- without even realizing it.
I give up my self-created, self-ambitious, wanting great success for each of my children in the way I imagine success to be, time line. I embrace the unknown, the spontaneous, the vastly obscure roads my children choose to take.
Stillness in the midst of change.
