Change is hard for me. I guess that’s why I have to write about it so much. I’m beginning to realize that motherhood is not only an unending training course in patience and humility, it’s also a recurring lesson in dealing with change. And clearly, I need the training.
Obviously, kids change. They go from diapers and sippee cups (thank goodness!) to sports equipment and school supplies to drivers licenses and tuition payments. I’ve been good with all of the other changes, (woo hoo, no more elementary school pick up line!), but I’m still struggling with the latest evolution in our family: the launch phase.
Last week, I took my eldest child back to school for his second year of college. And after we moved in his clean laundry, and I took him to the store to stock up on pasta and ground beef, he looked at me and said, “You’re gonna head out after this, right?”
Right. Because we had spent most of the day together, and he wanted to set up his space, and I had a long drive home. I left shortly thereafter, and I’m proud to say, I only got a bit teary. It was a huge improvement over the complete undoing I experienced one year ago when we left him in his dorm room hanging his posters.
However, while I was gone, child number two, the daughter who can’t wait to go to college, was filling out her Common App and plotting the best SAT strategy to get into her top choice schools. While I share her excitement about the next phase in her education (but not her enthusiasm for a school on the other side of the country), I am silently dreading the fact that next year, I will be dropping off two children at college.
In one year, only half of my children will live at home.
In six years, none of them will.
Fortunately, while I’ve been wrestling with this transitional stage of motherhood, I’ve been reading Maria Shriver’s book I’ve Been Thinking: Reflections, Prayers, and Meditations for a Meaningful Life. Shriver is a little older than me, and her book covers many topics I can relate to, with devotions on things like “The Power of Letting Go” and “Why Finding Acceptance is the Path to Peace”. Shriver mentions God and her religion often, but the book isn’t overly preachy. There are very few Biblical references. It’s more about her middle age struggle to find peace as her life undergoes significant change.
One of my favorite passages is from a reflection entitled: “We Are the Ones We’ve Been Waiting For”. In it, Shriver shares a poem she has hanging in her office that is attributed to the elder of a Hopi tribe in Arizona. It’s long, but here’s the part I found most inspiring:
There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel they are torn apart and will suffer greatly.
Know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above the water. And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate.
“A Hopi Elder Speaks, Hopi Nation, Oraibi, Arizona
When I last wrote about embracing change, I mentioned that “opening feels better than clutching”. I think that’s what this Hopi elder was getting at. Fear may drive us to hold on to the shore, to the way things used to be, but resisting the changing force of life will only tear us apart. Better to unclutch and join the flow with our eyes open. The river has a destination, and I’m sure it’s a good one, and if we’re scared, we can reach out to other people who are sharing the ride.
You know what I did when I left eldest child at his college home? I met a dear friend, one who has three children scattered across the country, and we drank tea and laughed and sent our kids a Snap selfie.
We met in the middle of the river to celebrate.
How do you adapt to life’s changes? I welcome all input!
Thanks for getting thoughtful with me!
