Children Leaving--Transitions, Identity and the Paschal Mystery

Bringing Caroline home

In my imagination

Last week I wrote about our not so perfect Christmas. (read it here) As I thought about the children having their own personal inside jokes and how I felt left out, I wrote without thinking, "But I missed being the center of their worlds. I missed Christmases of the past; Christmases when I felt I was in control." I froze (not because the temperatures had dropped). I froze because they sounded very much like the words, "I make everything about me." These words are huge triggers for me (just ask my therapist, she may retire on my issues with these words).  I've never written totally about why I hate these words and thought of being someone who makes everything about her, but I've alluded to it. (Why I Start Their Cars)

"NOOOOO!" my body screamed, and I put my finger on the delete button. I froze again; I believe I am called to be honest, to be transparent, to write and live my truths even if their ugly, so if that's what I wrote, I thought, that's what stays. But I hated it.

Not neurotically (therapy is helping some), but over the past few days I have thought about these words, and I realize there is some truth in them.  Maybe I have made some things (no comment from my children here would be greatly appreciated and will keep you in the will) about me.  (For example, over Thanksgiving Boss said he didn't want a graduation party with all the hoopla.  SK and Chris responded, "Um, it will happen. Make no mistake; this isn't about you." We laughed--fast forward, I have agreed to not do it. I do want to honor his wishes...) Back to me....

"Center of their worlds"--that indeed is what I wanted to be because that grounded me--that gave me purpose, that gave me identity.  I loved and missed them running in and grabbing my legs almost knocking me over as they got home from school.  I missed
snuggling with them at night when one son would say, "Will you tell my wife what perfume you wear so she'll smell like you?" and the other would say, "Can I just live with you forever?"  I missed the girls saying, "I want to be you when I grow up." and "Mommy, you're my favorite mommy in the whole wide world."

And I loved hearing about their hopes and dreams; what they wanted to do with their lives.  I was and am so proud of all they've done and continue to do. But now...now I wasn't just hearing about them. Now I was watching them; now they weren't just hopes and dreams but rather reality. They have overcome challenges (not just the challenge of me as their mother); they have worked hard; their dreams are coming true; my heart bursts with pride while my eyes erupt in tears.

"Gosh darn it," I thought. I really want to do this children leaving home thing gracefully.  I don't want to make it about me. I want to take my courtsey and exit stage left where I will lovingly watch from the wings as they became stars of their own shows.  I don't want to have to be escorted off kicking and screaming. I picture myself  elegantly gliding off and standing in the wings applauding--sometimes quietly and sometimes robustly. And I don't even mind the children might make fun of me for my facial expressions and for clapping....I want to be the mother that lets go "right."

I might make this face

If it were only that easy.  Perhaps it's because I'm also in transition in my vocation (I'm going to at least blame that a little..), but transitions have never been easy for me, and I have loved being Mommy/Mama/Madre even Mother.  (What's in a Name?)  I guess in some ways it has been about me. It has been my identity, my grounding, and without it I feel shaky and lost and afraid.

This weekend I preached on Jesus's baptism, and I told the congregation that just as God said to Jesus, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased." (Luke 3:22), God says that to each of us.  "We are all God's beloved," I told them, "Our identity is not what the world tells us it is but rather what God tells us, and God tells us no matter what, no matter who we are told we are, who we believe we are, we are first and foremost God's beloved children of God." but could I believe it for myself?  Could I believe my actual identity is a beloved child of God? This letting go thing is so hard....

And then I remembered, God never promised it wouldn't be hard.  "I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you." (Isaiah 43:1b-2) God called me by name long before I was Mommy and God is with me through the waters, through the raging rivers, even rivers of tears...

Life is about transition.  It's about loss and renewal--that is the paschal mystery--a concept that seems hard to understand and must be, we often believe, something drastic. But I have always believed we are constantly living the paschal mystery. This morning I read Richard Rohr's words, "Christians speak of the "paschal mystery", the process of loss and renewal that was lived and personified in the death and raising up of Jesus....until we have personally lost our own foundation and ground and then experienced God upholding us so that we come out even more alive on the other side, the expression "paschal mystery" is little understood and not essentially transformative." (From Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality, pp. 62) As I read these words, I reminded myself, the paschal mystery is not just the "big" things, but life in general, the stages, the transitions...

When I took SK back to school this week I saw her face (and I even at the time thought the word "countenance" a biblical word) begin to shine.  I could hear a lifting of her voice, a calmness in her tone, and see an excitement and a peacefulness in her body.  She went out with her friends; I stayed in her apartment, drank wine, watched movies,  and thought, "She is home. This is exactly where she should be."

I left C'ville the next morning and for the first time ever I didn't cry...I'm not on the other side yet, but it's a start.

Maybe I won't let Caroline go...