Are you in the process of letting go? The emotions of parenting young adults pull you in opposite directions and spin you around without any regard for your parent heart. Inside: Tips on dancing with joy and sorrow!
Guest post on parenting young adults
The two oldest of my five children have officially left home. One is a US Marine deployed overseas. The other is in college.
The extra leaf in the table will be taken out; we’ll put on the shorter tablecloth. It’s back to uneaten leftovers and a gallon of milk that goes bad before it’s emptied.
I’m thrilled that I’ve got some noise, laughter, and chaos for a little while longer. It’s not lost on me that one day we’ll be three, then two, and then just me — like it is when they visit their dad.
The departure from home looks different for each of the grown guys
The oldest is dropped off at the airport curb with his government-issued duffle bag and newly cropped hair. I’m not allowed to go in.
“Mom, we can’t drag this out. I need you to leave me, because you know I can’t leave you. I love you, mom.”
I do my best to make the encouraging and positive tone in my voice mask the tears streaming down my face, as I reiterate how proud I am of who he has become. And that no matter where life and the military take him I know he has what it takes to do well and to be brave.
I choke out the whisper, “I’m praying for you…every single day…every single minute.”
“I know you are mom,” he whispers in my ear.
Neither of us ever looks back after we’ve said goodbye.
For the second child — who I get to see monthly thanks to visits with his high school girlfriend (now bride-to-be) — I say:
“Honey, I’m so sorry I didn’t have time to make cookies before you left.
I promise I’ll send a package.
And thank you for all the help you were to me this summer with the other three kids while grandma was dying.
I couldn’t have done it without you.
Oh … and I owe you money for all the Whataburger and Chick fil a you fed people.”
“Mom! Stop! I’m not taking your money. And you’re welcome. I wouldn’t have been anywhere else.”
We talk about the excitement of the upcoming wedding, the classes he’s going to be taking, and what job he’ll get on campus.
And as he sweetly smiles at me after he says, “I love you, mom,” the third son is pulled close to me because he’s closest in range.
I soak his shirt with my tears. He’s 15. He looks down at me, then at his shirt. “Ugh…mom! You got my shirt all wet. That’s gross.” And since I don’t let go of him, he says, “Oh well. Mom, are you gonna be OK?”
I laugh as I remind him, “Of course I will; we’ve been through worse than this!” He’s completely confused, but relieved.
Learning a new dance while parenting young adults
Several of you have experienced similar feelings recently.
In her book, I Will Carry You: The Sacred Dance of Grief and Joy, Angie Smith writes about the internal pull of the two opposite emotions.
Picture that in your mind for a minute. One “partner” in the dance — the grieving side of the heart — is expressing the deep and real pain of loss. This sadness for a parent letting go is because the person you poured countless hours of care and love into is now absent. Gone from the daily experiences in their present life, far away from the watchful eye.
Sometimes a whole world away.
The other partner in the dance is expressing the overwhelming pride and joy of seeing their child succeed, achieve independence, and begin moving into the role of companion and friend. It’s the day this child was raised for — the culmination of so much hard work and prayer. It might feel like a treasured masterpiece is being revealed to the world.
Make no mistake. It’s a dance. Beautiful or terrible. In sync or out of step. There are two polar opposite sets of emotions that are trying desperately to reach some kind of peace. One pulls against the other, creating a swirling activity of emotion and unpredictable responses. Hopefully they work with — and not against — each other.
If you’re like me, you might not be a great dancer.
From fits of laughter to a puddle on the floor
I have a friend who experienced a deep loss a few years ago. She came over and we were trying desperately to find a pocket of joy in the situation. What began as a heartfelt fit of laughter, turned into the two of us holding each other on the floor in a heap of tears.
For those parents with the new found loss of little ones starting school, older ones starting high school, or big ones leaving home or moving on in life: you, too, may swing from fits of laughter to a puddle on the floor.
I believe what Jesus told his disciples in John 16:20 about his death and resurrection is true for us here: “You will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn to joy.” I love that. This hope is reiterated in several other areas of scripture.
Isaiah 61 says he can take our crown of sorrow and anoint us with the oil of gladness. He can remove our spirit of despair and put on a garment of praise. While it’s not a promise that applies directly to parental release, I do believe it’s the heart of God to gift it to us when we ask it of Him.
In the studio of the Throne of God
As loving parents, we continue to try and figure out what new dance steps are required to express that sorrow while trying not to discourage our children from finding their own rhythm.
We transition from being the one person that tiny baby depended on for every single thing in their life, to maybe being the parent whose kid neglects to call from college, or fails to visit much their first time home on leave.
Thankfully, joy steps in and twirls us around when we get an unsolicited call or text, or we find ourselves thrilled to stay up and have the late night talk on a visit home.
Joy leads when we get the text that says, “Mom, please pray for me,” but in the sway of sorrow we already were praying.
We’re caught up in a beautiful synchronization before the throne of God who sees it all and is incredibly delighted to see it unfold.
He loves to see us grow — to see us get better at the dance.
The author of this guest post, Michelle Deavenport, has been my friend for almost three decades. We raised babies together and she taught me how to mop a floor with a dish rag (my whole family still calls this technique the “Michelle Mop”). She also taught me to explain to my stubborn two-year-old that ALL of my friends’ homes had easy access to a wooden spoon. She can be found on her own blog: Pursuing Hope and Finding Joy.
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