Train up a child

For the first time ever it rained throughout Cousins' Weekend. It

didn't stop the fun, but I didn't get to spend a lot of time on the river something I always look forward to-something my soul needs. Tuesday everyone except a few had left. It was a beautiful day (of course because everyone had left). The river was calm; the sun was shining; there was a silence that sang to my heart, so after my morning run I went inside and asked Caroline to kayak with me before we left. She said yes but then was dilly dallying around. Finally I asked, "Do you want to go?" She responded honestly, "Mama I don't love it like you do and I'm not as good at it as you are, but if you really want me to go I will."

In one of my better parenting moments (I have to brag on them; they're few and far between), I didn't try to guilt her; I didn't beg her; I just said, "Okay. I'll be back soon."

I paddled out and thought about Caroline's honest answer, my better than usual response, my sadness that only 1 of the 4 could be at Cousins' Weekend (a grief they all also felt), and how our lives are changing.  The other 3 were sad not to be with The Cousins, but they were also happy and thriving where they were, and where they were was so vastly different from one another.

They were born 4 in 4 1/2 years. It was exhausting, overwhelming and wonderful. And they moved as a pack--we moved as a pack. Over time we were dubbed "The O'Doyles." Perhaps I in part created that as I dressed them alike for what they would consider far too many years, if one had a doctor's appointment  or any appointment, we all went (4 kids this close does not allow for a lot of extra funds for babysitters), they went to each other's recitals, games and performances. And they loved fiercely and completely.

As I continued to paddle I thought about how much they love each other, how much I miss each of them, and how different they've become. One was in South Africa working towards race reconciliation, one was in Montana hiking and mountain biking and working as a bellhop, neither of them would choose to be where the other was or doing what the other was. Another one was a life guard at camp and Caroline was stuck with me. I thought about except for 2 colleges none of them were looking at the same schools (I tried not to think about the fact we were paying for those 4 college tuitions...), and this is so silly but I thought about how when SK, Caroline and I went to get pedicures the colors we chose were so different; I thought about how the way we dress has become more different than in years past (I suppose I should be glad they are no longer "borrowing" my clothes and shoes.)

Surprisingly, I wasn't overly sad but rather a little sad at the passing of time and at the same time immensely proud of who each of them was becoming. And the words I wrote 3 years ago about The Cousins leapt back into my mind, "But most of all we come with our hearts full of  love- and we come with and for the stories.  The stories we've told for years and the new stories we bring each year. And all these stories are tightly wound together; they are wound as if they were multiple colors of yarn. Yarn that is wound together into a tight ball; they are wound together so that all the stories combined become not your story or my story but part of our story.  The story of the Cousins.
As we drive away each year, each cousin takes a hold of a piece of that yarn and carries it in his/her heart back through the hedges at the end of the drive and into the world--back into our separate lives into our separate states, the ball unravels as we move out; we are each given the right amount of string to be ourselves, but it never breaks; we are  always connected at the core because we are "The Cousins.""  (The Full Post) 

I thought that's how we are becoming as a family too. Always connected, always loving, always caring but moving out and away..

I thought about the connection and (I guess because I always seem to think theologically--a good trait if you're a priest) I thought about Proverbs 22:6, "Train children in the right way and when they are old they will not stray." (NRSV) and I wondered if parents often misinterpret this--if I have misinterpreted this... What does "in the right way" mean? As I continued to paddle I thought in the right way in addition to respecting the honor and dignity of all humanity, in addition to loving all people and believing God loves everyone no exceptions, it also means training up children to be who God created them to be--not who I want them to be. Training up children to live fully into the call God makes on their lives even if it means they are thousands of miles away from me (and I can give you the exact mileage because I'm the creepy mama that tracks them), dress differently than me (why does no one like bright colors or want to wear smocking anymore?) and have different interests (Boss is convinced I'll love mountain biking--he tells me this as he's pointing out his cuts and bruises from his last "awesome" ride). They get to make choices I may not make, and I get to keep on loving them unconditionally.

Those are the things I thought on July 5, and I continue to think them. I continue to try to really let go, to not hover and offer my unsolicited opinion. I continue to try to not have my feelings hurt that I'm not a part of every aspect of their lives, and I continue to remind myself that is healthy and appropriate. Some days are better than others...but I also have started thinking it doesn't just pertain to them.  I too get to be and to live into who God has called me to be. 

Like any parent of teens and young adults I have heard the "don't do that, don't act like that, don't say that, you're embarrassing" comments over the years. Most of the time I try to honor them--ok sometimes I do everything in my power to embarrass them but that's one of the benefits of being a parent--most of the time I try to get it right, but sometimes I don't. Sometimes I say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, make them uncomfortable when I don't mean to. As they are leaving home (too incredibly fast--thought about having another baby or getting a puppy just this morning) who I am also changes, and you know what, they may not like/value/endorse everything about me, but just like I am trying so hard to let them be who they are, I get to be me too.

They get to be themselves, Chris and I get to be ourselves, but we will always be connected because for better or worse, in whatever time zone we each live, work and play, whatever we choose to wear, we love one another and we are the O'Doyles.