If You Love Something, Let It Go

30 Dec 2018 2 Comments

by Deb D in Greatest Hits, Just Life, Love and Other Things, Parenting Tags: , , , , ,

They say that if you love something you must let it go.  If it loves you in return, it will come back to you.  I didn’t realize that I was counting on this when I sent my daughter off to college 4 years ago.

In theory, I had launched her into the world and was glad of it.  But I failed to see the strand of hope that tethered me to her like the string on a kite soaring out of reach. 

When my daughter announced that upon graduation she would travel 8000 miles away to teach in a third world country, the tension on the line that connects us tightened, begging me to release my remaining grip.

I indulged in sadness just once, crying briefly, then it was done.  I had never been so forlorn about something that I endorse 100%.  But history has taught me that my fears are poor predictors of reality, and that time spent on worry is always wasted.

It seems like yesterday that I left a teen daughter trembling at the entrance to Girls’ Leadership camp – a place she hesitantly agreed to attend for the summer preceding High School.  My homespun girl needed to build courage and independence in adolescence.  It was my job to help her find it, not to wait for a time when she felt ready.

As maturity set in for her, I ceased having to push her off the platform of certainty. Our roles reversed and it was I who felt reluctant about my daughter’s ever-expanding adventures.  Like tearing apart velcro, I could feel the ripping each time she ventured farther into the big wide world. The beauty of velcro is that it can be joined and separated over and over and remain just as strong.

In time, I realized that I wasn’t losing a child to the world.  Rather, I’d gained a scout through whom I would experience places and people I wouldn’t otherwise encounter. I would see life through my daughter’s eyes and share in her world no matter the miles between us.

I used to believe the adage that parents give their children wings to fly.  In truth, children are born with wings and the instinct to use them.  Flying isn’t taught but allowed.  We can give nothing more than freedom.

When the fear of flight rises, it may take all the determination one can muster to release the restraints that bind us, and our loved ones, to the ground.  It’s not until we truly let go that we can enjoy the reward in soaring.

Parenting is a noble prospect, rife with opportunity for personal growth.  As we raise a child, we raise ourselves.  Our mission, if we accept it, prompts us to evolve into far greater beings than we ever imagined, or wanted to be.

Unconditional love insists that we surrender our parental fears in order to fulfill a commitment to those who follow our lead.  When we cooperate, we find that life has a way of unfolding in the most natural and perfect way. 

Despite inherent uncertainty, there is peace waiting for us.  We have only to release our grip on what we think we know in order to see life smiling at us and saying, “Trust me.  I’ve got this.”

Growing Pains

26 Aug 2017 2 Comments

by Deb D in Growing Up, Just Life, Parenting Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Friend is facing her first experience of launching a child off to college and is beginning to do the mother-bird scramble.

“Should I be doing something?”  she asked with a slight hint of panic.  “Did I forget to give my son some sort of key family experience?  Will he grow up and say ‘you never did this with me….’?”

I laughed out loud because this is what friends do when they’re smug about already having moved through a parenting stage that a girlfriend is struggling with.

“It’s simple,” I told her.  “No, you shouldn’t be trying to make up for missed opportunities.  Because yes, your son will tell you that you short-changed him in childhood – no matter what hoops you’ve jumped through to make his life spectacular.”

Knowing this doesn’t stop us parents from trying to over-provide as we send our babies out into the world.  For yours truly, sending my second child off to college this year, my un-nesting ritual included a trip to the pharmacy to prepare an insanely sophisticated First Aid kit, the likes of which could patch up a wounded soldier on the front lines of war; one who also suffers from cold, flu, sunburn, allergies and bug bites.

Let’s face it, this milestone is big-huge for parents, not just kids.  We want to make sure that we’ve checked all the boxes.

When our babies were small, we had growth charts that told us if they were getting what they needed.  Then we had academic progress reports to inform us.  What nebulous system, besides coming of age, do we use to reassure us that they’re adequately prepared to be solo in the big wide world?

We know, deep down, that all will be well.  But we may also secretly fear that our child will crash and burn.  And worse, that it will be our fault – a result of some failing on our part.

This is a rabbit hole that my mind has fallen into more than once.  Like earlier this summer when I determined that 14 year old Peach didn’t have enough structured activity to keep her from melting in to a lazy pile of teenaged decay.  In short, I panicked and began arranging to-do lists for her to complete.  I lectured her about the balance between work and play, giving and receiving.  And I admonished her for her resistance to my lessons.

“The only time you’re growing is when you’re uncomfortable.” I told her, stealing wisdom from a blog I had read that day.

“Uncomfortable?!” she repeated.  Check.  Double check.  We were both miserable thanks to my reactionary measures.

So goes the learning process.  I’m still growing too.

Friend and I poked fun at ourselves, which always serves to lessen the growing pains.  We decided that our misguided fears about parenting are borne of the immense love we have for our children. 

Love and fear are catastrophically intertwined.  It is these two reasons, only these two, that drive all of our actions.

I give to my child because I love him AND I fear that he will suffer without my support.

I withhold from my child because I love him and I fear that he will be spoilt.

Same. Same.

I tried to explain this to Peach by way of an apology.  “If I get crazy, you’re allowed to ask me what I’m afraid of.” 

Peach might just be brave enough to confront me with my own fear.  If she does, I promised to be okay with the discomfort, because I’m told that if one masters discomfort, one can master anything.

There’s plenty of discomfort on my doorstep as a parent of three, and letting go has been challenging.  But I think, overall, I’m doing pretty well with it.

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