I’m sending three kids off to college this year. The last of the four “bigs” is heading to study economics and Spanish and, we hope, God willing, change the world for the better.
Four will be out of the house, leaving the four “smalls,” who are no longer small. As my world changes, so does my parenting. For I have been changed by my experiences raising each one of them, and I continue to be formed each day by the surprises that come with being their mother. Praise God for that formation! He knows how much I need to grow.
As they head out, I’ve been tempted in many of our late-night chats to reiterate the life goals I have for them. “Save your money. Don’t eat your paycheck. Balance work and play. Be thoughtful in whom you choose to make friends. Choose a truly good girl/boy to fall in love with. Stay close to Jesus. Oh, please, stay close to Jesus.”
My heart cries out these warnings, but Jesus has taught me the art of pausing before I speak. In this pause, I reflect on my youth at the age of 17-21. Did I adhere to these goals? How much easier would my life have been if I did?
But is there not so much learning in owning and fixing our mistakes? Is God not always with us, working, whispering, leading? I am at the age of 47, with a beautiful, blessed marriage, raising eight children, some very dear beautiful friends to journey with and navigating the journey of life with the Lord as my guide.
But again, it wasn’t always this way. Perhaps I need to remember the lessons that got me here. Perhaps it matters how I share these lessons I have learned and these hopes for their lives.
As parents, we want our children to avoid the mistakes we made. That makes sense. And yet, would we be where we are if we had not walked some of those treacherous paths? I am pondering how to share these lessons I learned to teach and guide without droning on or making them sound like mandates because, ultimately, I want to be a person whom they continue to trust and seek out for guidance.
The other night, I shared some of those long-ago stories with my “bigs” as we shared drinks on the front porch watching the sun set well into the darkness. They listened and laughed alongside me, and then I pressed in a bit more.
I love sharing God moments subtly. They know. Those seeds have been planted. I say things like, “What I have learned now is that those choices made me feel lost or less, broken and hurt. In navigating those moments and healing from them, I know I was created for love, joy, giving, serving, and that life does not have to feel so combative or scary.
“I wish growing up I had parents who guided me through those moments. Your father and I are here for you. You will make your own choices. Many different than ours. Some of you already have and have learned hard lessons from them, and yet, here we sit, together, and I am so thankful for that.
“Know that we will continue to be here for you, to support and listen when you make the wrong choices and to celebrate and rejoice in the good ones. You are not alone. God is always with you. We will always love you. Nothing can change that. There will be times we don’t agree, but you will always have our love.”
I reflect on the talk I gave five years earlier when my mothering world was tipped upside down and I felt that my children’s actions reflected my parenting and our family values. I cried. I shouted. All this while telling them, “Of course, I love you!” I chuckle ironically at how that must have been received. But mercy is real for all of us and thank God for it.
Through the sacraments, a strong dose of prayer and friends who speak truth and love me like family, I can reflect, pause and share with my children more vulnerably, more authentically, and they see my growth.
Am I willing to suffer a bit of embarrassment, chagrin and show ownership of my choices so that they can see my humanity and how God has been so steadfast? Will they see that life is indeed a journey and that we can choose to make it easier or harder as we travel?
I pray so. It is what I now have to offer them, and I give it humbly and fervently. Sharing our story matters. In sharing it, we allow our children to connect with us and build new relationship ties.