I finally cried. Not just a little; instead, the take your breath away variety.
I got through the entire month of May ~ watching Emily graduate from college and Sara graduate from high school ~ with nothing close to a breakdown. And then it happened. I slipped on my Asics, grabbed my iPhone and earbuds, and started up my street for a walk. In less than a block, little tears popped up unexpected and trickled down my face.
I blame Sara Bareilles for this. I blame Send Me the Moon. I shouldn’t have listened. But I did. And when the deliciously sad song came to an end, I listened again. And again. Sobbing until I had to stop walking to suck air and see.
I guess I finally stopped trying to cover all the fractured parts of my heart. I stopped being cheery and brave. And fake. I stopped trying to act like I believe people who say things like you’ll just love how much freedom you’ll have when the kids are gone. You’ll be so happy getting to do your own thing.
The minute I stopped trying to copy and paste a good attitude, grief assaulted me. With a fury. That kind that pulls you down so fast and deep, you wonder if you’ll breathe again.
I’ve tried so to outrun the beast. With ideas and projects. Surrendering to the busy. And in that, there was confusion. I thought about a pie project. Pie blog, that sort of thing. (What the what?) Thought about training for something. (Um … okay.) I also entertained downsizing. Selling the house, our stuff ~ moving. Psychologist call this un-nesting. It’s what mothers do when they’re ready to say good-bye and move on with life.
Not me. I’m not ready. Because these years with my children have been so beautiful. So beautiful.
But mothering is part-time.
When you look at the whole span of your life ~ and count up the years these precious children share your home ~ it’s just a part of your life. A small part, really. It will end. And then there is a good-bye.
I’m usually okay with good-byes especially if there’s something bigger and better waiting. But there is nothing conceivable to replace what my kids brought to my life. No project or idea or radical move could begin to soothe the grief spilling out of this mother heart.
So on that walk, I did the only thing I know how in situations that don’t make sense. That hurt inexplicably. That seem wrong, even though they are right.
I said thanks.
And through tears, I agreed with Truth. I said this is the day and I will rejoice.
I don’t have any illusions this was my final teary day. It’s not over. Not yet. But I am a step closer to Truth. The kind that doesn’t entirely make sense but is entirely trustworthy. And I will let Truth rise up in a stand-off with my feelings.
And Truth will win
… yes?
It’s rebellious in a way to choose joy. To choose to dance, to choose to love your life. It’s much easier and much more common to be miserable. But I choose to do what I can do to create hope. To celebrate life and the act of celebrating connects me back to that life I love. ~ Shauna Niequist
PS. Marching orders for all moms like me, listen to a sample of Shauna Niequist’s Cold Tangerines here.
art takes time.
Time for some new New Year’s Resolutions …
Top 10 guilt-free pleasures – part one.
It’s gonna take some time to get where you’re going …
Charlie is 19 months old and you are making ME cry!!! Good grief. :/
Sigh. Susy, my sentiments exactly. Always you write as I am feeling. <3
Gracefully said.
Thank you Susie for articulating what’s so deep in my heart. I’d go back and start the mothering journey all over again if I could…and we can’t so: we are grateful for what has been and what is and all the hope that God has for our and our family’s future. You are such a precious writer. Thank you. LOTS of love and tears, Lynn
My oldest daughter will be getting married in just about 3 weeks. I am sure I will need a few buckets to get me through the day :)
Standing in Truth with you. This mothering gig ain’t for sissies. Needing a Susie ‘fix’ real soon…miss you.
Oh, saying thanks. How often I wrestle with this. So many times I would rather let what He is offering pass me by, saying “No thanks, Lord. I think I’m good right now…” But gratitude is so many times the key to finding joy in the midst of it all, don’t you think? Like that lovely quote above, in this, I want to be rebellious. I choose joy.
Thanks Susie, for a beautiful, heartfelt post.
Beautiful, Susie. Just beautiful. Let’s grab lunch and cry tears of joy together. :)
Deal. :)
beautiful, Susie. thanks for sharing. let me know if you would be okay with a re-post on themoatblog. your words are so encouraging to those of us still full in the trenches so we might remember to enjoy rather than endure.
Thanks, friend.
I’ll email you about it. :)
As a mom myself of two grown children, I completely understand what you are feeling. Thank you for being vulnerable and honest. It may not seem like it now, but the shift in the relationship with your children now that they are adults and no longer need “parenting” is one of great reward. You will reap the harvest of blessing as you see that the good seeds that you and your husband have planted are not bearing fruit. They have matured into the women you prayed they would become.
bearing fruit.
now bearing fruit. *sigh…this is why i never comment on stuff. lol)
I.adore.you.
I do this kinda stuff all the time.
And I appreciate your encouragement. :)
I have young children, but this brought tears to my eyes. It is such a fleeting part of the life of a mother to have children in the nest. I can only imagine how fast 18 years goes by, but what a joy to be a mother. Sending you hugs as you set out on this new journey of motherhood. Choose joy!
Thank you, Angela …
I get it, Suzy . . .