Learning to change with the seasons

Today my youngest turns twenty-eight. I’m up early to start preparations for the brunch we’re going to have to celebrate him, and the stillness of the morning has me thinking. How is it possible that my baby is now a grown man?

When you are a young mom, everyone tells you to cherish the moments because they fly by. But, try as you may, you really just don’t understand. You’re busy figuring out sleep patterns and feedings and play dates and daycare. You’re focused on PTA meetings and weekend soccer and basketball games and planning fun birthday parties. You’re helping find the perfect outfit for Homecoming and Senior Ball and exploring college options. You’re packing them up and sending the off to college, crying because they are leaving but also because you are so darn proud of them.

And then one day, you wake up and realize that they, indeed, really have grown up, left the house and made their own way in the world. Your role has shifted and the ground you are standing on is unchartered and unfamiliar.

You’ve spent so many years in the hustle and bustle of being an active parent that when this transition first happens you kind of ignore the heaviness of its truth. Your purpose has changed and, frankly, it takes awhile to figure out how to change with it.

You’ve become more of an observer, an admirer a prayer warrior. You’re no longer the center of your kids’ worlds. No longer the booboo kisser, book reader, or taxi driver. No longer the sideline coach or physical shoulder to cry on. You’re part of what helped build them, mold them, make them – but make no mistake, they are their own grown adult selves. And, you, while still incredibly important in their lives, are more like the roots of their tree. You realize the tree has it’s own place in the forest, and you watch from a close distance as its’ branches grow and flower and reach for the beauty of all the world has to offer.

So, you pray. You pray that the roots that grew the tree are deep and strong. You pray the foundation you’ve provided is solid and the soil it’s planted in remains rich and nourishing. You pray that though they, most certainly, will face storms and be shaken, that your love and God’s great grace and strength will carry them through into a productive, happy, fulfilled adult life.

And you learn to accept the fact that the days of “molding and shaping” really flew by in the blink of an eye. You realize the people that told you to “cherish these moments” were 100% right, and “these moments” have passed by and there are no do-overs. There is a heaviness in that reality that is hard to describe, hard to accept.

The Book of Ecclesiastes says, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” I’m learning to get comfortable with this truth and figuring out how to gracefully embrace the change. For me, it is now time for the new season of embracing adult children, helping aging parents, enjoying grand-parenting, figuring out life post-menopause and planning for future retirement. This season is proving to bring its own weather – sometimes bright and sunny and sometimes stormy and uncertain. But, now, a little older and wiser, I will do everything I can to really cherish the moments, because I truly do understand how quickly the seasons change.

Post note – I had every intention to post the above article as soon as I got home from our family gathering. Can’t help but smile and share this… At the end of the day, as my husband and I drove along the beautiful river road with the late afternoon sun shining, I remarked to him how it seemed so unbelievable that Zack was twenty-eight. A few minutes later the song, “Sweet Baby James” came across the radio. Sure enough, that was the lullaby Howard used to sing to the kids when they were little. Together, we took a deep breath, shared a knowing smile and got lost in the tender memories of our beautiful now, grown-up children. We are truly blessed.