I was reading a book on parenting and wanted to share some of it with you. I’ve italicized the things from the book; the other statements are my own thoughts.
“Becoming a parent means your heart is never your own again. Becoming a Mother will leave you with an emotional wound so raw that you will be forever vulnerable.” Dale Hanson Bourke
God gives us the gift of family. As parents we are constantly working ourselves out of a job. We raise our children to leave us. We take care of them while we’re teaching them to take care of themselves. We transfer freedom and responsibility from our shoulders to theirs in a slow and orderly process as they grow up. Then we let them go. God does not take family away. He merely changes its shape. And in the changes, we have a choice. We can resist, clinging to the past and moaning over our losses. Or we can turn our faces toward this new season with hopeful expectations.
Anticipation is worse than reality. When our children are young and desperately in need of our constant love and protection, we dread the thought of their leaving home one day. “They won’t be ready, and I won’t be ready,” we tell ourselves passionately and rationally. Experience has shown that dread and worry are the paralyzing emotions one conjures up while standing in the present and fretting about the possibilities of the future. God gives us what we need at just the right time we need it. When the day comes for children to leave home, we’re given the strength to cope—just in time.
Transitions are tough. When we love passionately, we can hurt deeply. The exit of a child, especially a first or last child, forever altars the structure of a family and the definitions of individuals. The child’s physical absence leaves a gaping hole in our lives for a time and often catches us by surprise, as if we never saw it coming. Our grief is real and a necessary part of a family’s journey through transition. Some of us respond to losses more deeply than others. Transitions are tough for us; we grieve greatly, but the feelings are temporary. They do pass.
God’s plan is perfect. Our Creator, who divided the year into seasons and the days into mornings and nights, also divided people into families. Families are the safe haven where children are born and raised, a place where the tender shoots are nurtured until their roots grow strong and deep. God willing, I’m apt to spend twice as many years with my adult children in other seasons as I spent actively parenting them in the child-rearing season. That motivates me to let go of the parent-child mode and move toward a mutually satisfying adult-to-adult relationship. God’s timing and plan are perfect, even if I don’t feel that way in the midst of a tough transition, I have to let go of the old and make way for the new.
God promises new beginnings. Something is ending but something new is beginning. As my children have married and embarked on a life with a family of their own, I miss them, their laughter, their voices and their touch. I’m excited for them and happy for their new babies and for the families they have started. I am grateful to God to be included in this new season of their lives. It also brings a new beginning for me and a new season for me, full of potential and opportunity and a chance to grow ever closer to Him.
Each of life’s seasons has its challenges. One is dealing with the unrealistic expectation that when the children are gone we won’t worry about them anymore. The truth is we never cross the goal line. It goes on forever. Though our children are out of sight they are never out of our mind. Once a parent, always a parent. No matter how many miles separate us, we’re forever connected by invisible but powerful bonds, and their concerns are still our concerns.
No comments:
Post a Comment