I just spent two days in Pennsylvania and road-tripping home with my 12-year-old daughter. She’s at that beautiful, sacred place between childhood and young womanhood. One moment, she’s my baby girl, full of nonsense and wonder. The next, she’s my equal, exploring deep thoughts, reason, and matters of the heart.
She’s a kite and an anchor all in one body.
I found myself filled with both gratitude and grief. My heart would swell with love and joy to the point of pain, only to have grief whisper, “Don’t blink. Don’t let go.”
I’m in a season of transition in almost every area of my life. I’m 41 and have been feeling the shift from youth to elder for several years. My vocation has been in transition for 3 years! My children have crossed over from little kids to the older kid/teen years. My marriage is bracing for the all too soon, coming empty nest years. We even moved after 13 years to a new house. Transition.
It’s a word I used hate. To me, it meant I had no control over what is next... unsure. Letting go of what is familiar and safe. Transition is dangerous. I think we all know (cognitively) control is an illusion. Until our lives feel out of control and we start desperately grasping for the reins.
I’ve learned in these three years of transition that I must lean into it instead of resist. At first I felt like I was careening toward the edge of a cliff and I had put my bare feet down trying to slow myself or stop the inevitable. All I had accomplished was bloody, painful feet... still sliding off the cliff and terrified I might add! I had to stop resisting. I cannot stop life from moving forward and the more I give into fear, the more I was hindering healthy growth.
Have you ever lost control of your car on ice or hydroplaned?? If you have, you know that your instincts in that situation can get you killed. We want to slam on our brakes and course correct by turning away from the slide.
In actuality if you do, you will slide faster and farther in the very direction you are trying not to go. To come out of a dangerous slide or hydroplane, you must take your foot off the brake and turn into the slide instead of away... then gently pump the brakes once you feel the traction of the road again, lest you go into another slide. it’s totally counterintuitive!
We mamas have the beautiful affliction of affecting every member of our family for good or bad. If we succeed or fail, it is never ours alone. Terrifying if you stop there.
I say, don’t stay there, don’t put it all on you. Lean into the truth. You don’t have everything you need, let alone what your family needs. You are a mere mortal who swells with joy one moment and is gripped with grief the next. Not because you're crazy or pms-ing. But because you’re human and this is hard! You absolutely need help! Help from the men, the village, your mama... yes, all that help. Honestly though, they cannot rescue us.
Only Jesus can walk with us by his spirit through the gripping fear and profound victories, the self-doubt and overconfident mishaps, and the stuff that leaves you shaking your head, asking, " What happened?! Where did I go wrong?!” If we are not allowed to fail, we will crash and burn when we do. Our kids have to see us fail and own it with grace. Fail and repent. Fail and get up and dream again.
Only Jesus can shatter the curse of perfectionism and leave you whole.
In these last three years, I have felt more frustration than victory. I can honestly say that in this third year, I am finally seeing the magnitude of the good work the Lord is doing in me. He has been growing me up and preparing me for what’s next. I have had to do the hard work, too! It has been 100% supernatural and 100% natural. Obedience without understanding and miracles I often only see when I reflect.
I have gained a new perspective in this season.
Transition equals Growth.
Transition equals freedom from the past.
Transition equals new opportunities.
Transition equals deeper faith and trust.
Transition equals the promise.
Transition is the doorway to...
There are no 3 steps or instant arrival. There’s beautiful hard work. Gratitude and release for what was and is and is to come.
There's arms wide open.
There's desperate prayers breathed out in the wakeful midnight hours.
There is lots of repentance.
There’s self-discipline to go to God over and over and over again.
I’m allowed to live in the tension of profound joy and grief. It’s ok to be afraid. It’s not ok to let it paralyze you. It’s especially not ok to let fear justify holding my children back.
So I lean into the joy and feel it freely, let it well up, and when grief comes, because it will, instead of shushing it and being afraid of what it means. I lean into it and accept it as proof that I have loved and cherished each season. How could it not hurt to watch my kids leave childhood behind? It was a great and wondrous season filled with joy, fairy tales, sleepless nights, and sacred snuggles. Trusting big teddy bear eyes, that knew mommy had the answers. Cherished and celebrated round bellies on both mama and toddler. Seeing every little thing anew through their unabated excitement.
Ugh! There’s that ache again.
Jaida, my sweet daughter, I pray I demonstrate for you what you are demonstrating for me. That I would be a kite and an anchor. That I would not worry so much about defining the season or transition. I would just be exactly where I am. That I would embrace it and whatever my deficiencies may be. I would lean into Jesus and allow him to cover the gaps and make me brave and ready to receive whatever is to come.
It isn’t joy OR grief. It’s joy AND grief!
When we can accept this, powerful, transformative peace is released in this beautiful affliction we call motherhood. ❤️
Comments