California Roll

Things come in two's

    I've let my 18 year old go (i.e. off to college on the other side of the country), and I'm also letting go of my old self as encapsulated in papers, book and clothing.  Maybe one psychological change assists the other.
   That needs some explanation, especially for you who haven't sent a teen out before.  I'll admit, I had no idea what it meant to send  a kid off to college until I went through it.
    I've always been eager for my kids to grow up and become independent, so I was unprepared for the churning emotions that crashed over and around me this summer in anticipation of the oldest kid leaving.  Fear of her not coming back, fear that she couldn't and wouldn't respect me and trust me as she had before. Of course it didn't help that she was going through her own emotional crisis of losing proximity to friends she was accustomed to seeing almost daily and of nudging me, her mother, away.
    I told you blog readers of the grand cleaning out of a room devoted to kids book, toys and my out-of- season clothing and other spillovers. That started three weeks ago, finished mostly in one week, but I still have remnants of items to disperse.  We turned that room an artist's studio for my younger daughter.
  This weekend I moved forward in other rooms - I took out of my kitchen older pots and implement to make space for shiny, super new pots and shredder by West Bend and I threw away a box load of old papers with ideas and notes that mean so much to me.  I faced the fact that though I'd built my life on these teachings, now I am different and the people around me - for whom I'd saved these old sermons and notes from seminars, are not the same.  As the title of the book says, I am indeed "a new kind of Christian."
    Perhaps as I stop holding on to cherished objects that embody what I've valued in myself and others, I'm more able to let my daughter go off to a place and people that will change her values and perspective without my careening into fear, fear fueled by the sense of loss of control.   

You Just Can't Win

    Today I took my 18 year old daughter to the airport where she would board a plane, with her dad (the strong arm one) for New York and on to her college on Long Island.  All this week  I prayed and strove for good final days.  I desperately wanted this morning to have good final moments with her. 
    Yet, as we stood in line at the ticket counter and I pondered what I wanted to say before speaking, still my words provoked a little eye roll.  Then my 16 year old said, "Mom, did you say how Jenny reacted?"
    "Oh, yes.  I know I blew it again."
    All summer long seeing such eye gymnastic and the exchanges of "the look" between Jenny and her sister have sent me into spins of self mutilation and fear for "our future." Maybe we wouldn't continue to be close.  Maybe I'd blow it so much that our relationship would continue to be fraught with tension and my pursuing and her responding from mere obligation.  Such worries have been poison darts through my mind through out the summer. But not today.  I just knew it.
    I knew that there's no way to win.  She's hyper sensitive.  I'm hyper sensitive.  That's just the way it is between moms and daughters who've been quite close, some might say perhaps enmeshed, when they are separating.  There's been arguments, harsh words from each of us to the other at times, yet I know that fundamentally our relationship is good. We'll be okay.
    What is it I said to her today?  Well, yesterday I'd seen her packing a green stuffed lizard and asked what kind of reptile it was.  "An Iguana."
    Today I said, "That iguana was a good choice to take.  Not too young looking."
    Now when I look back, it's obvious that that would make it sound like the stuffed animal was young looking, like I'm aware that she's trying to avoid looking young, or all kinds of other inferences that would taste like lizard to her. 
    Yep, but at the moment I just couldn't see it, couldn't figure out the right thing.
    And you know what.  It's okay.  I'm convinced deep in my soul that, "It's going to be alright." (compliments of Sara Grove's songs)  I don't have to be perfect to have a good relationship with my daughter.
    And another one, a prayer from Sara, that kept floating through my mind last night, "Love wash over a multitude of things, (repeat), and make us whole... There is a love that never fails, there is a peace that always prevails, so wash over us, us, us."
    I know that God is merciful to me, a sinner.

   

Breaking up is hard to do

    I wonder if you've heard that song?   I'm certainly feeling the truth of that 60's title,  "Breaking up is hard to do" today.
    My oldest, Jenny, is going through the throes of having broken up with her boyfriend.  A decision made because they'll soon be on different ends of the country. At the same time she's also "breaking up" with me. 
    As one counselor said, "When the daughter is close to her mother, she has to reject her even more in order to separate."  "Separate" here means not just to move away, which she'll do in two weeks as she sets off for college, but to become a separate person emotionally, to no longer care so much what I think and feel.
    I know this process is necessary intellectually, but it's still so painful for me. Probably is for her too.
    "The greatest information comes in the greatest pain."  That's a quote I can't attribute, read it in an article about writer's block.  I'm holding on to that truth as I still feel the sting of some harsh correction from Jenny yesterday
    Before lying down last night I prayed that God's spirit would teach my spirit during the night, to reveal to my spirit what I need to know to get through this one.  He loves to answer that prayer.  Sure enough, I awakened with the story of the Father and his son who left him running through my mind.  I know God is like that Father, he understand how I feel.  Romans 5:1-5 came to mind.  I opened the worn red leather Bible and read the whole wonderful five verses there. 
    It was hard to stop crying last night, but today I have hope. Even though Jenny was attacking some very basic personality traits of me that seem out of my reach, impossible to change, I know that God has lavishly poured His Spirit into my heart.  As I listen to Him and cooperate, He can change me in ways that I deem impossible.
    I also know that the real acceptance that counts is not with my daughter.  In the long run it matters little whether my daughter thinks I'm a wonderful person or not. What matters is God's esteem of me.  And I am good in His sight through my belief in Jesus.  I certainly haven't done everything right, nor am I a perfect mother, and when I try to base my self-acceptance on those things I soon fall flat.
    "And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God.  Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character, and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit."
Romans 5:3-5a

Going out with Them

    A wise wife of a pastor talked to me yesterday. We both have daughters who will go away to college this fall.  She mentioned though she's working FT, she's taking bits of time to go on short shopping trips with her daughter, treasuring this last summer before she takes her big step towards independence.  We're facing it, once they go off to college they might never come home again.
    And, I know as many of you probably want to say to me, she might.   I know that many more young adults are moving back in with their parents as housing costs have become so high, especially here in sunny California.  But putting aside your desire to allay my fears, realistically, we just don't know.
    And I don't want to count on that. The only relationships I can always, truly, count on is God. And so I awaken on many mornings now with a sense of the transcience of life.
    Anyways, back to my point.  Since neither Jenny nor I don't care for shopping much, I asked what shall I do to connect to my daughter amid all her busyness this summer?  And she is truly busy this week -working two jobs; last week two nights in SF with a friend and three days of job training.
 Yesterday I volunteered to go along with her as she drove to the homes of two of my friends to do an in-home presentation of cutlery.  No indepth talk, but I could support her emotionally, spiritually with my silent prayers, and practically as I gave her hints on how to handle any person that took over the conversation and ran with it, unaware of time considerations.
    And it was fun just being with her, hearing her reactions to when she came away from doing her presentation. I thought to myself, this is it. She's no longer able or willing to come along with me on my thing, but it's good for me to join her in her thing when I can as she ventures out into the world. 
    That's the kind of support I wish I'd has as a teen.
    And BTW, Palo Alto is not as safe a place as people think, despite it's million dollar or more homes and immaculate streets and gardens.  Someone ripped my bike off the rack on the back of our Toyota as I picked apricots at the home of my former Englihs teacher and Jenny did her sales talk.   
    We've left our garage door open into the alley on numerous occasions and no one has riidden off with our unlock bikes.  Yet another reason to live in our neighborhood where some are gardeners, some custodians or contracters and many people have three generations one small/medium size home.

More than I Dreamed

    In just three months my 18 year old travels across the country to attend Stony Brook, State University of New York.  Questions trouble me sometimes.  Who will she hang out with?  What influence will they have on her?  What impact will this experience have on her spiritual journey?  How will her faith survive the challenges of dormmates or professors who don't believe there is a God who loves us personally and cares what we do with our lives?
    Just one week ago Jenny and I sat in the auditorium of Stony Brook's Student Activities Center on Long Island with some hundred other parents and incoming students to the Honors College or WISE (Women in Science and Engineering).  Students separated from their parents when for a session with the head of the Honors Colege and personal counsel from older students about choosing their classes.
   Four hours later, at 6 pm, Jenny and I sat waiting for the train bound for NYC, where we would spent the night at a hotel reserved in Chelsea.  Jenny was feeling unsure about the classes she'd signed up for.  For me questions like the ones I posed had been triggering my prayers all day. 
    God reached down to us in the form of a young man.  A stranger stopped by us and asked, "Did you attend the orientation today?"
    "Yes."  I stared at his Stony Brook T-shirt.  "Were you an adviser?" 
    "Yes, how did you like it?"
    Jenny explained her background, goals, and  doubts about her schedule and this student advisor's response helped her feel more comfortable with her choices.  He started walking away from us, down the platform.
    "Is there some reason you're going farther down?"  I asked.  After hearing that the coming train didn't stop this far down the platform, we followed him.  We sat near him on the train and talked with him most of the next hour and a half.  I learned his name was Felix, that he commuted from his home in the Queens.
    I ignored some of the initial chatter between him and jenny, until I overheard him speaking about going on a marvelous, life-transforming trip to Ghana.   "Was that through a church?"
    Yes.  And we talked from there about Christian music, heard his story of how Jesus came to mean everything for him and then - marvel of all marvels - when I asked if he was a part of some student group on campus, he said, "Inter Varsity."
    How my heart soared when I heard that, because it's the group that supported and grew my faith and relationships throughout my college years at UC Davis.  He went on at length about how wonderful this group was. 
    Wow.  Just what I wanted my daughter to hear.  Of course I've been telling her about IV, but like any teenager, her mother's words about what might be a good group for her can't compel.  She has to find her own way. Thank God for sending a messenger. 
    If He could arrange this, of course He will continue to take good care of my daughter.

   

The End of Many Things

    My baby is graduating today.  Along with some 400 others she'll march down a football field with 400 others to receive a high school diploma.
    I've looked forward to my kids becoming independent and leaving me more time to pursue my own pursuits.  I never imagined how much I might miss them until the days came, these days, when they were about to leave.
    Last night Jenny asked me how I felt about one of my friendships.  She made some wise observations. I thought afterwords, "My 18 year old daughter has become a real friend to me."  She's also become a wise and loyal friend and counselors to many of her peers.
    Tonight we'll fly to JFK Airport in NYC, arriving at 7 a.m.  From there we'll find our way to the Long Island Railroad and on to Stony Brook University on Long Island.  We'll probably arrive thirty minutes late for an orientation for incoming students and their parents. 
    Some friends have been surprised that she's going so far. I think it's great.  Sure, we'll miss her, but this is the time to experiment, to see new landscapes and architectures and to experience the different climate and people's thinking and way of life.   
    So we'll go together to this one day orientation and then bumble our way around New York City, visiting museums, browsing in shops and going to see an opera for the first time ever.  I'll celebrate my 52nd birthday with my daughter, taking in a boat tour of NYC and eating in a wonderful restaurant.
    My husband?  Well, we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at a restaurant this morning to celebrate by 52nd. He visited  SUNY Stonybrook already this April and will accompany Jenny there when she returns there in September.
    The end of a certain kind of relationship with my daughter is drawing near.  She'll no longer be with me year around and depend on me for things like meals, supplies and hugs, but I'm exchanging that for the joy of her friendship and seeing her blossom and give to others.
    And, who knows, maybe like many other young adults in the US these days, she'll come back to home again for a spell. One this is for sure, things will never be the same.

It's not just "the teenager"

    Parents of teenagers often talk as if the teenager was the whole problem.  You know - teens are moody, emotional, living in tthe moment often, striving for independence, individuating themselvs . . .
So of course they are hard to live with.  Any problems in our (the parents') relationship with a teen is due to the adolescent of course, not us.  Oh no, couldn't be.

    Not true. In my case anyway.

    This morning I struggled to say no. Such a little word, but so hard to say, even when I add a, "I'm sorry to it."    Before saying the big "N" word to my 15 year old I talked it over with Collin, my husband, and he reassured me that it was fine to say that word.  I did it, but still felt guilty afterwards and needed to process the reasons for I said no as I drove to the train station.

    Why is it so hard? So hard fo me - the parent?  Perhaps because I'm a little girl inside.  Because I don't want to lose my "little' girl. Because when she looks so needy and pitiful, she's hard to resist. Because if i say, "No," perhaps she'll move away from me even more.  And I don't want her to go.
Yes, I do.  No, I don't

    We're pretty mixed up.  Admit it, us parents are sometimes as mixed up as our kids.

    But today, for today anyway and I can'at say about tomorrow, I kept my boundary. I'm proud of myself.  I'd like to have a parent saying that to me, but I have to say that to myself now.