This morning as I was watering my gardens, I turned on our outdoor speakers to listen to music as I went about my tasks. The two announcers on the station were in conversation about the “Wonder Years” and how the sister of the one radio host feels she is now the narrator in life. Do you remember the show? It was set in the 60s and in the beginning of the show, the one child begins the show with a nostalgic look at the past and then they segue into the program.
That got me thinking, my children are now grown and even though they may occasionally ask me or my husband for advice, they more often than not ask their significant other or their peers and have relegated Mom and Dad to the bookshelves. Don’t get me wrong, this is part of the maturation process, but the realization of no longer being the “star” of the show of life is a humbling position. And in saying that about being the star, it is meant with those “stars” being minimized in relation to the “Son”.
The radio show then had a caller call in. She related this story about when she, as a young newlywed of 7 months, was encountering difficulties with her new husband and she wanted to come home. Her mother, I’m sure with lump in her throat, calmly listened to her and then said that her childhood home was no longer her home; her home was now with her new husband. 25 years have passed for that young woman, and to this day, she is still married to that man. How wise for her Mom to counsel her daughter that way.
My son gets married in 9 days. When he needs advice that only a parent can give, he calls his father and I, but in a recent call, I think what he wanted was to know that we agreed with him about a situation. We didn’t. Our advice was that he had to do what he thought best and move forward. This is all part of the process of letting go and it is EXTREMELY difficult sometimes. Letting go does NOT mean you don’t love them, if fact, it sometimes shows just how much you do love them because you are trusting them to make independent choices and allowing them to suffer any consequences so that they can learn. Remember teaching them to ride the bicycle – did they fall? Mine did. What about driving? Did they get tickets? Mine did.
Now with all I’ve said, there are circumstances that just don’t allow for some marriages to work and I’m not the judge or jury in any of these instances. I also am of the mindset that if a young child is part of the situation that the child is not to blame and everything should be done to give that child the best possible chance to grow and flourish in love. I’m talking generalities and spats that encompass someone’s feelings being misunderstood or hurt, not major marital issues. Marriage is between 2 people and both have to work at it and yes, sometimes it is work and not pretty! I’ve been married for 29 years, most of them happy, but it has not been without disagreements that sometimes rock the boat to its core.
Life is so complicated these days. As I come down to the final days before the wedding, I am feeling the bittersweet feelings of a love so strong and a joy so complete that tears are just a natural byproduct. Our children have not lived home since college, they may have visited for a month or so, but they (by their own choice) enjoyed their independence and were willing to work to maintain that. Should either of them (and their significant others) need to come stay for a short period of time, they will be welcomed with open arms, but the same arms that welcome them will push them out if they become lazy and complacent. Some call it tough love, it is.
The bittersweetness has nothing to do with their choices in spouses, their growth or their independence. It is more that I realize that I’ve reached a new season in my own life, that of the narrator and I am just stunned at how quickly it passed.
In 9 days I’ll be a mother-in-law and with all the silly jokes that accompany that, I don’t want to be “that” MIL. My desire is to be the friend to a young couple. This is their life, their choices, their consequences. I love them but they are not, nor were they ever “mine.” They belonged to God first and I’ve been blessed to have been gifted with them. I will dance with my son to Mark Harris’ song “Find Your Wings”. The opening line reads “You were only mine to hold for a little while, the plans that God has for you will all too soon unfold.” Brent has said we can dance to that, if I promise not to cry. I can’t make any promises!
Looking up! ~ Barb
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