Rumbling tremors beneath the foundation of our home started in our son’s preteen years, but a tectonic shift changed the course of our parenting when he turned 18-years old, when he started floating away, an island all his own.
This continental drift, an initiation into manhood, for daughters, womanhood, means we no longer reign over our children’s country. So even if they’re still living at home as many young adults do these days, they’re still drifting far from shore. It’s a confusing time for all of us. They’re daunted by the anchor-less world before them. We’re perplexed by the sudden shift — the pushing away, and inconsistent returning when we’re needed. They stop by for home cooked meals, some petty cash, to crash. There’s no how-to manual for this transition of I need you and I don’t. They expect us grounded firmly rooted like palm trees in the earth, majestic towers of strength, yet also breezy and flexible so they flit in and out of our lives. When they drift far away, they still want the messages sent in a bottle, guiding wisdom from ashore, but they don’t want our opinions. We learn to bite our tongues.
They want to know our heart is in the North Star shining bright in dark ember nights on their journey, that God lives beyond the canopy of the vastness before them, that they will not perish in its unfathomability. They do not know these desires tucked away, nor do they speak these truths. We hold for them this sacred knowing.
As my son ventures into the wilderness this week alone for a soul-searching vision quest, I shop for and prepare staple meals and healthy snacks. I hear myself say, I should let him do this himself, but I just can’t help it, it’s the remnants of motherhood that drive me that I realize will always remain. When I’m tempted to slip in an inspirational note, a poem or words of wisdom as I did each day packing his pre-school lunches, I pull in the reigns. I heard a podcast the other day by a poet who said his parents, writers and artists, slipped silly rhymes into his school lunches. I smile wondering if my little lunchbox notes mattered, if he’ll remember, if somehow they’re imprinted on his creative heart as he opens containers of healthy snacks in the wilderness this week, the North Star shining bright in the silent night.
I think again of Mary, mother of Jesus fretting when he disappeared as a 12-year old boy into the temple as they made their journey back home from the Festival of Passover. She thought he was close behind traveling along with the crowd. It took them three days to find him intent listening to the teachers, asking wise questions beyond his years. All who heard him were amazed at his understanding of the teachings.
When his parents saw him they were astonished; and his mother said to him, “Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.” He said to them, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” But they did not understand what he said to them.
Mary reminds me mothers worry. Fathers worry. Even Jesus’ words, do not worry about your life sometimes don’t penetrate, or quell, the worry we have regarding our children.
The rumbling beneath their parenting foundation started in earnest for Mary and Joseph in Jesus’ preteen years. We don’t know much about the years between preteen years and his initiation into manhood, but surely the Jewish rites of passage may have helped launch him into manhood, helping Mary and Joseph let go in a ritual setting. But who can imagine how they coped with the perilous journey before him in his ministry that started in his thirties, or the crushing of Mary’s heart when she heard these words:
Someone told Him, “Look, Your mother and brothers are standing outside, wanting to speak to You.” But Jesus replied, “Who is My mother, and who are My brothers?” Pointing to His disciples, He said, “Here are My mother and My brothers, for whoever does the will of My Father in heaven is My brother and sister and mother.”
Who can imagine the final plate tectonic shift that happened later with his death on the cross —
the anguish of her mother’s heart as the nails went through his hands and feet, when he cried out, thirst parching his throat?
Who can imagine how Mary felt as she stood near the cross of Jesus standing with her sister, as well as Mary the wife of Clopas and Mary Magdalene, and ‘the disciple Jesus loved’ — John –nearby:
When Jesus saw His mother and the disciple whom He loved standing nearby, He said to His mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then He said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” So from that hour, this disciple took her into his home..”
How would I feel if my son told me I was longer his mother? If he told me his beloved friend was instead her new son? What mother could stand such harsh, brutal words? My son telling me the other day he doesn’t want us to live in the same city as him when he finally moves out soon, seems nothing compared. Yet, I still took private time to reflect on his words that felt like a punch in the gut. After deciphering his cryptic teenage language, I realized what he meant was something entirely different then the way it sounded. He was trying to say I don’t want you nearby so that I’m tempted to rely on you. I have to prove I can to do this myself. I have to go at this alone.
Although Jesus’ seemingly heartless words shock, in fact, I wonder now if they were words of love. I wonder if by slicing through the umbilical cord, he prepared Mary for the reality of what was ahead. I wonder by giving her a new son — St. John — in reality He helped fill the empty space in her heart, giving them both new life of mutual caring as He prepared for his departure.
And yet, what swords penetrated Mary’s heart as Jesus, crying out his last words spoke, Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!
Having said this, Jesus breathed his last breath.
It was over. And yet, it was also just the beginning.
In committing His spirit to God, ultimately Jesus was telling us again, for the thousandth time, we are all God’s children first and last, and upon His resurrection we find in God there’s flourishing and abundant life and rebirth. And we remember His words, I will never leave or forsake you.
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This is achingly honest and insightful. I dread the shifts that will come as my little boy grows up. I will always want to protect him and wipe his tears.
I’ve always wondered about Jesus’s words towards his mother. I enjoyed reading your thoughts on that.
Awww I was hoping this could still reach a mom with young boys to give some food for thought over the years as they grow up..a sort of preparation that I wished I had..a rememberance they are always God’s children first.
Yet, I’d never have known this transition would be so challenging! It’s part of the journey, and I hear it gets so much better when they turn 23 or so!
Beautifully written. And encouraging for that stage when the children begin to leave. I have gone through it and needed to be gentle with self knowing the grief was natural and would ease.
Thanks so much Lynn, I will take your advise to be gentle..knowing grief will ease..think more mothers like you can be so helpful in sharing such wisdom, there’s so few resources for this stage of our lives..
They will forever have our hearts – our precious children! No matter how old they get! But you are right, they belong to God and His care for them is far superior to mine. May He give us all grace and peace as we loosen our grip a little more with each passing year.
precious thoughts here Esther, thanks for visiting!
Exactly – ultimately, we are raising them for His purpose. He is their God as well as ours. We have to trust His plans for their lives. It gets harder as we watch them walk into young adulthood full of questionable decisions and dabbling in the world. We have to know that if He has saved them, called them His, they aren’t lost, just in the wilderness. It is way easier said than done though.
love this “they aren’t lost,just in the wilderness”! And yes, easier said then done!
I understand.
love your simply words of empathy!
This writing needs to get out for the world to read Kathy. Your deep descriptions of BOTH your AND your sons’s perspective are gifts to all who need these insights to remind to do like reader Lynne said: “be gentle with self and understand that grief is natural and that it will ease.” There is another layer that our adult children and we face in these uncertain times: politically and economically that are unique. I pray for our youths resilience of heart and soul during these challenging times. I pray for parents abilities to foster adult children’s independence and maturing in respectful and loving ways. I know now more than ever that the more I focus on my own soul’s work and follow “Thy Will” the easier it is to support my adult sons on their unique journeys. Honestly, this is the most difficult passage I have faced in my life. Thank you Kathy for putting the struggle into words and reminding us all that our children are in God’s hands.
Your words are solace and wise, such a comfort! I watch how you have grown so tremendously with letting go of your first born, and the joy that
has come for you with your grandchildren and a new and growing relationship with your son!!
What an exquisite testimony to this sometimes grueling stage in motherhood, Kathy. You laid out such beautiful detail describing those depths every parent will face as we must- letting go of our babies and realizing the hard truth that our children are not under our ‘wings’ but now flying on their own.
I’m so glad you were able to see beyond your son’s declaration- Oh that would have stung my heart a thousands times over! But you’re right. You are so RIGHT. He just needs to learn to be independent from you and the first step is literally stepping away…
In my prayers with the kids on the way to school every morning, I always seem to be very intentional in reminding myself that my kids are God’s kids, bestowed on me to raise. I always say at the end “God, take care of our girl/boy”.
And despite knowing our kids are not really ours, I’m not looking forward to this phase of motherhood you wrote about! My heart already aches with this new teenage girl I now see in my daughter, spreading her social wings and flying to new friend’s houses and doing new things without my supervision. It feels unnatural to me, but necessary I know.
I have a long road ahead of me- but I still grasp tight to her sweet “I love you mom! BYE!” at the door of this house I’ve never been too. I lingered at the doorstep- and she closed the deal with her quick goodbye- but she still said “I love you mom” in front of these friends I don’t know well.
At least I still have that. <3
And her phone number. LOL
I cannot even imagine the strength Mother Mary must have had.
I so much appreciate your thoughtful comment Christine, and how wise you are to so early on prayerfully committ your children to God..”bestowed on me to raise”. How beautiful. And your prayer “God, take care of our girl/boy”. I say Amen, and in my words “God take care of our ‘young man’! Oh how I can imagine you watching your daughter start spreading her wings..it’s a process a long adjustment period. I told my son when he finally called from his remote campground — thankfully cell service — that I was in the wilderness all week..that it’s too bad, I’m just not used to not hearing from him for days. He has to give me a year at least to adjust to this! Those “I love you mom” mean the world Chris. Thankfully that continues! You are a dear, dear mother. Your love is evident in her “I love you”. Your love and faith are her anchors and from wwhere she will bloom! Blessings!
Wow! This was really gripping for me because you’re talking about your grown children and the way you see and feel about them being grown is almost exactly how I feel about my grown children and how they are with me.
I think this was a very well written post as you tie in Jesus as a son with what’s happening with your children and how to look at what’s happening at an entirely different perspective going from the flesh to the spiritual outlook.
Thank you and God Bless!
oh thank you Yolanda for your thoughtful comment! I’m so glad you related to this, I find so few helpful resources
to help put in perspective this time of our lives and children’s lives in the light of God. So mich appreciate your thoughts!