With each milestone named above, as well as Sarah's wedding last year, I've been given tangible reminders of the fact that these children Jeff and I have parented are no longer children. When we went to the New Student Conferences at Texas A&M before the girls' freshman year, the parent seminars largely focused on letting go, and not being a "helicopter parent," which is defined as "a style of child rearing in which an overprotective parent discourages a child's independence by being too involved in the child's life. In typical helicopter parenting, a parent swoops in at any sign of challenge or discomfort; so called because such a parent ‘hovers’ like a helicopter." I see evidence on social media of many parents I know who do this, and I admit it would be an easy thing to slip into; however, it is quite dangerous to both the child and the parent, and can jeopardize the adult child/parent relationship in the long run. Jeff and I have tried to avoid this type of parenting, and to allow our children to cut the apron strings, and to make their own way in this world. We have always parented with the philosophy that we were raising them to leave.
But even though they are doing that quite successfully, my heart is still very entwined with each one of theirs. And this is the part of parenting that I was oblivious to when I first began this journey almost 24 years ago. You see, I operated under the false assumption that for 18 - 20 years, I would give my all to these children, and then they would be off on their own, and my job would be finished! Yay, retirement! But that is so very far from the reality. I even quoted Erma Bombeck's passage about children being like kites. She ends that passage with, "The kite becomes more distant, and you know it won't be long before that beautiful creature will snap the lifeline that binds you two together and will soar as it is meant to soar, free and alone. Only then do you know that you did your job." But that is not entirely true.
They do eventually soar free and alone, but the ties that bind you to your children are never completely severed. When they shed tears, so do I, without hesitation. When they hurt, my heart breaks in ways I had never experienced before being a parent. When they are mistreated, I feel an overwhelming urge to avenge. When they are happy, my heart soars beyond expression. When my grown son boards an airplane to a foreign country, my heart feels an apprehension and concern that I don't feel with anyone else, except his sisters. When I watch my adult daughter teach a class of 2nd grade children, I feel a pride like I've never felt before. When any of my children call me to share hurt and disappointment, I FEEL that in ways that I'm incapable of feeling with any other person. And when I read 3 John 4, I truly FEEL that passage, as I have NO greater JOY than to know that my children walk in truth. They are a part of me, and always will be.
When the girls were born, a friend gave me a book by Robert Munsch titled, "Love You Forever." At the time, I thought it was a cute, sweet story of the enduring love between parent and child. But now, I get it. I really get it. I am proud of the lives apart from me and their father that each of our children has begun to carve out for themselves. And as they continue to grow, and to establish their own homes separate and apart from ours, I will be thankful for that. After all, it is God's plan and design for them to do that - you know, the "leaving and cleaving" talked about in Genesis. And I love the "empty nest" stage of life that Jeff and I enjoy together. But instead of ending this post about my kids as I have in previous writings with Erma Bombeck's passage, I have decided that a more appropriate ending is written by Robert Munsch: "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always; as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be." I do. I will. And they are.
So for all of the young mothers who have asked me how to handle it when your children grow up and leave home, know this: Motherhood doesn't end after 20 years. There is no retirement. It changes, yes, and the relationships with your children change. But the essence of Munsch's words ring true. Don't helicopter. Let them grow, leave, and make their own way in this world, and yes, even let them make their own mistakes. Don't swoop in and save them. And don't be afraid of the changes. They do come back, and when they do, there is love, laughter, and a lot of noise, all based upon the lifetime of memories you have given them. They bring friends, and then spouses, and soon puppies, and eventually babies of their own (or so I've heard!). Some may even return home for an extended time as they change course, and that is a time to be appreciated and enjoyed as well. But then they go back to their own homes and their own lives, and the house is eerily quiet. But that's also a good thing, and something Jeff and I enjoy as God intended. Until they come again. And we can't wait.
"There are two lasting bequests we can give our children. One is roots. The other is wings." ~Hodding Carter, Jr.
