Life and Learning Never Stop

I love to learn, but I'm learning it's not always a joyful experience... especially when I think the lesson has been learned, only to turn around and find I've still got a ways to go...

No details of the actual lesson, but I would be very ungrateful if I didn't share some of the fruits:

A mother is no happier than her most unhappy child. I have heard this many times and thought I understood and agreed, but it was a superficial, cognitive version of understanding. As I keep having the opportunity to discover, understanding does not truly begin until it is assimilated into the heart and even into the whole being. I had been experiencing sleepless nights and a mild "depression" accompanied by random thoughts and even tears regarding one of my kids. Our relationship had become really strained and I couldn't quite place my finger on it, but I knew that I needed to talk to her and ask the really hard questions. Last Tuesday night, I prayed to KNOW the cause of my worry... I almost couldn't believe my ears when Dave told me he had a disturbing dream about this child and that he was going to wake her up so that we could talk to her. I was nervous but SO GRATEFUL!!! Never before had Dave joined me in this part of parenting our teens... I was almost scared to include him because he always seems annoyed with my "negativity" and mistrust in those things that "all teenagers do," but maybe experience is also getting to him... 

My heart broke as this teen shared her tears and confessed her secrets--I went numb in disbelief that this could really be happening again--but it took a few days for it to really sink in and for the emotions to come. The anger came first, followed by extreme sorrow and despair. I was surprised by the depth of these emotions--I thought I had already learned to turn them over to the Savior and to not let them affect my ability to be a "good mom," but it was apparent that I had not. It was Sunday after I had cried all of my mascara off during Sacrament Meeting and had to hurry home to (try to) fix it, that my heart cried out to Heavenly Father to take this pain away. Christ had already suffered them and I knew that He could take them from me or at least make them light and comfort me--and I knew He could do the same for my daughter. The prayer was more a pouring out of heart than it was words...I couldn't even find the words...but I knew He knew what my heart was saying.

A few hours later, my child had talked to the bishop. Dave called her into his office again and he gave her a beautiful blessing and then offered some council and a chance to share her feelings. As we talked to her, I felt the despair begin to lift from both my heart and shoulders AND from hers! It was miraculous, and that's when the simple quote about a mother's happiness being tied to her children became more of a truth to me. I could feel how her heart was actually a part of mine somehow, and I was given a better (though still minute) understanding of how the Savior takes our sorrows upon Him--we are His, He has taken our hearts into His own. I truly stand all amazed! Another phenomenon about this realization is that it not only allows me to feel her pain but also to separate myself from it, to be able to feel my own life's joy and not become "prey" to the sorrows of the world. I don't know how, but I do know on a new level that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ feel our pains but still are able to experience a fullness of joy. In my mind, it makes them even more real and more approachable than I ever realized before.

It wasn't until the next day as I read The Peacegiver: How Christ Heals Our Hearts and Homes by James Ferrell that I realized that Sunday's miracle also came as a result of my heart's plea for Him to take it all from me. I had almost forgotten the prayer, actually, but it came flooding back into my mind as I read this amazing book that gave me a deeper understanding of "how" the Atonement works. He heard my prayer and answered me immediately! 

Sorrow and joy can co-exist in a mother's heart. The word gratitude is insufficient, but for lack of a better one, I am indeed grateful for my Savior.  I know He lives and that He loves each one of us. My heart's desire at this time is to be able to receive His image in my countenance, that somehow others (especially my kids) can feel a portion of His love and maybe begin to understand His gift as they can see in my eyes that He knows them and loves them unconditionally and that He will succor them if they will but allow Him into their hearts.

Enjoy the Season I Am In

I read a blog once that mentioned that while there is a plethora of blogs by mommies of little kids--mom tips, mom brags, mom frazzles due to tantrums and such, etc--there is a lack of similar mom blog rallies among moms of teens and adult children. I don't spend a lot of time searching for such a community of blog moms, but I don't doubt that these statistics are true. Motherhood becomes a whole new playground as kids gain independence, diversity, agency, etc. Their situations are often quite personal and not something they want blasted over the World Wide Web. I can also understand that the years spent "raising" teenagers is so time consuming and ever so much more exhausting that not many have the energy to cleverly document the goings on of each day.

Part of me feels like it would be a good idea to somehow share (albeit discretely) the pains and sorrows  and simple glimpses of joy that come from "middle mom-hood." I feel like I want to attempt it somehow. Maybe it is a form of therapy for myself. Who knows? I just know throughtout the time I spent enjoying my kids when they were young (pre teen or even pre tween), I also spent time wishing they could ¨just be older" because life would be "so much easier" when they could do things for themselves. Now I know that I would have been much better off JUST enjoying the season I was in. I am pretty sure that same wisdom applies to now and forever.

Lately I have been fasting every Sunday (personal preference, not doctrine) for my son and for myself to be able to handle his choices as the Savior would. This morning I awoke not wanting to fast--feeling like it was pointless to do so, not wanting to "get my hopes up." When I feel that way, I know that I definitely need to fast that day, so I put on my big girl pants and did it anyway... Today I went to church alone. I am in California with two of my adult kids and their "significant others"--my 18 year old son with his 17 year old fiancé and my 20 year old daughter with her hopefully-someday-to-be fiancé--and they chose not to come to church with me. They take vacation very literally while I take the Sabbath very seriously... I cried all through the opening song, the Sacrament song, and the Sacrament itself.  I'm not sure why, other than that I was fasting. I remember watching tears fall from my Grandma's eyes during Sacrament meeting when I was young and wondering what they were about. I think I understand now. Kids not only bring an indescribable joy, but they also can bring a sorrow beyond the understanding of anyone other than a mother. It's love. After church, as I drove the daunting Southern California freeways, I tuned my satellite radio into BYURadio (which I LOVE) and listened to an interview with Richard and Linda Eyre. They are professional writers/lecturers/teachers on PARENTING, (www.valuesparenting.com) and if coveting was not a sin, I would covet the parenting skills of Linda Eyre. Anyways, here are a few of the key quotes that I took away from that interview that I felt spoke straight to me in my current motherhood moment:

We are all either just leaving a crisis, in the middle of the crisis, or just entering into a crisis. To me, this basically reminded me that I am not alone in my struggles.  Every one of us has her own set of trials and challenges. This little reminder was soon followed by

God cares more about our character than our comfort, which pretty much means that I should remember to look at the BIG PICTURE and be grateful for every challenge because I am growing my character!

Parenting is a calling you are never released from. This is not necessarily comforting (I'm partly kidding) unless I can remember that the moment will pass and that in the "end" everything will be good. 

Our children are eternal souls who come to us with their own personality already in place. We are here to teach them and to love them, but not to choose for them. For this reason, we cannot let ourselves feel guilty for their choices if we have loved them and have done all that we knew how to do. 

Adult children have adult problems. Because we are parents forever, this is again not necessarily a comforting statement, BUT we need to remember that while we are still their parents and while they still need our love and support, their problems are their problems and we cannot let them affect our happiness. I know this as a truth, but I will not promise to not feel at least a little bit of heart pain over it. I will just accept this as a given and make sure I keep myself strong enough to handle it.

Think of it as a remarkable stewardship. There is a reason why these kids were sent to you. I have actually heard this several times, both before I reached the season of mom-sorrow due to my own kids' choices and now several times now that I am smack dab in the middle of the season. It is one of those statements that makes sense to me at a cognitive level but that hasn't yet sunk deep into my heart and soul. I often find myself musing about what I could have done better...but that leads me back to my original statement of ENJOY THE SEASON. Just as I could not wish away the season of needy toddlers (nor would I have, even if I could have. Why would I want to miss out on all the miracles and cuteness that also come with that stage?!), I cannot wish myself back into that stage. My tweenage, teenage, and adult kids are all amazing creatures. I am humbled and often overwhelmed by the fact that I am their mom. During the tough moments, I need to make sure I remember to see them as eternal beings and be grateful that I get to have them in my life.