Vulnerability

Nothing in my experience has made me more vulnerable than being a parent.  From the moment Jason was born, I became hostage to another person.  His health, safety, happiness became central to my contentment.  When my children were young, I worried about things like their falling down, or getting sick.  Then the relationship things started - what influence their friends have on them, do they have any friends...

In some ways, that's the hardest.  You have some influence when they are little, but that, rightly, diminishes as they get older.

I'm in the phase now when Andrew and Emily are well on the road to adulthood.  They are making their own decisions, choosing their own paths.  It's my role to be a cheerleader and a shoulder to cry on - an ear for a rant session.  My advice is seldom sought, nor is it appreciated when offered. The time between visits is long, and the visits are short.  Phone calls are infrequent.  You hear the highlights of their lives, and not the daily experiences that add up to real life.

I've struggled with living in the past.  In my quest for "moving on", I refocus those thoughts on present events.  Sometimes that's successful, often not.  Today, I cleaned out my closet and found a couple of boxes of memories.  One was old cards, but the devastating one contained pictures.  Random pictures to remind me that I used to have children. That I used to know them, and I mattered to them.

I realize how pathetic that sounds, believe me.  I had my finger on the backspace key, but what is the point of this blog if I'm not going to be honest.

I like to think of myself as a strong person.  I have survived many disappointments and grief along the road.  Survived.  I'm still breathing and functioning like a rational person.  But there are some holes that never get filled.  And maybe they won't.

I am not sorry to have been a mother.  I'm delighted in my children, even when they are misguided.  Even when I disagree with them.  Missing Jason often consists of wondering what his life would be like now, and the conversations we would have about his experiences.  I'm certain I would miss out on the daily events of his life, just as I do with Andrew and Emily.

So, I guess I will always be vulnerable.  Probably I will always wish for more involvement in their lives.  That's being a mom.

Here's some hope, though:

Why am I discouraged?  Why is my heart so sad?
I will put my hope in God! I will praise him again - my Savior and my God!

Now I am deeply discouraged, but I will remember you -
Even from distant Mount Hermon, the source of the Jordan,
From the land of Mount Mizar.
I hear the tumult of the raging seas as your waves and surging tides sweep over me.
But each day the Lord pours his unfailing love upon me, and through each night I sing his songs,
Praying to God who gives me life. (Psalm 42:5-8 NLT)