Pieces of Me

When my oldest child, a son, was a junior in high school, I unknowingly began a grieving process.  As he moved steadily towards the end of his senior year and, ultimately, leaving home for college, I knew in the deepest part of my mother’s heart, that life would never be the quite same for our family.  The dynamics of our Six, who would soon be Five, would leave a hole in our home that would transcend the empty spot at the dinner table or quiet (and CLEAN) bedroom. 

It seemed that every family vacation was our “last” and small moments of quiet togetherness were savored and tucked away for future treasure keeping.  There is something mysterious and beautiful about the role each family member plays in the family.  Every parent will read this with understanding and add their assent when I speak of one child being away from home for a sleep over or week away at camp.  The family dynamic changes drastically.  You don’t just go through that evening or week blissfully unaware that a family member is missing.  No, the mood is quieter and the banter a little less boisterous.  It just feels different somehow, as if by common consent every family member saves the best laughter and fun for when the missing link returns.

I don’t mean that life is melancholy or depressing when one is gone for a while.  While I miss that person, I also know that their opportunity to experience new things and meet new people is irreplaceable in a kid’s life.  I welcomed those opportunities for my children. 

We used to have chickens on our farm; Rhode Island Red hens and roosters.  I loved hearing the crow of the roosters first thing in the morning and watching mother hens chase after errant chicks, tucking them under their wings to keep them at her side.  I’m a bit like that.  I know my children want to and NEED to spread their wings and fly away, but I’m always happiest when they are all home for a visit.  On such occasions, my husband whispers to me last thing at night, “rest easy, your chicks are all home.”  And I smile, because that is exactly my sentiment.  I trust them when they are away and I trust my loving Heavenly Father to watch over them, but when they are within the safe confines of my roost, I am at most at rest. 

So as Trevor prepared to leave for college in Kansas, I wondered and worried if I had prepared him well enough to leave us.  Sure, he could balance a checkbook and do his own laundry, but would he enter a big, scary world with a solid foundation underneath him to guide him into good decision-making?  You can’t know ahead of time.  It must be proved as he is living out his journey.

And so, as the weeks turned into days, we shopped and packed and I cooked all his favorite meals and I wracked my brain for sage advice and nuggets of Truth he could take with him.  I had never sent a child off on their own before.  Was I doing it right?

The days screamed forward with incredible speed and before I knew it, it was time to say goodbye.  One last hug and one last “I love you” whispered in his ear. I had other children starting school at the same time, so Dad was the appointed chaperon to get him settled in.  As I watched the tail lights of Trevor’s car disappear over the hill, I asked myself again, “what more should I have said?”  The answer to my own question hit me with force.  I had spent the last 18 years of his life pouring my life and limited wisdom into my precious child.  I had done my best as a parent.  There was nothing left to say.  He would either succeed or fail on his own merits now.  He was ready to face life.

Fast forward to present day.  I have lived that same experience twice since then.  Two more sons have traveled great distances to attend out-of-state universities.  My roost has slowly grown still and quiet.  Only my sweet Hannah remains.  My lone daughter and the last of our Living Legacy.  Every parting since that fall day, I have said my goodbyes with the same confidence that I have done my best to prepare my children for Life After Mama.  Trevor has since graduated from college, as has Ryan.  They are each in graduate programs now in different states, and Son #3 attends college in yet another state.  Our family is far-flung and busy.  Our once-enjoyed family vacations and summers together are a thing of the past.  We get together for holidays and short trips home, but the leisure summers together are a faded, treasured memory. 

And then…

God gave me the summer of ’11.  Inexplicably, our lives were interwoven once again for a lengthy stretch that has been the absolute joy of this mama’s heart.  My men came home to work for the summer, live for free, and daily eat roughly their weight in food.

I have loved every minute of it.

Cooking, caring for, and enjoying my family together again has been a gift.  Think about the very best gift you ever received.  I have received many wonderful gifts from my husband and children, but I still have to go with my seventh birthday.  I was given my very own, very brand new, very shiny bicycle.  It was a feast for the eyes.  It was purple and had a white banana seat.  The chain guard had the words, “Miss America” written in groovy font.  I LOVED that bike with all my heart and soul.  I knew beyond doubt when I laid eyes on that beauty that I was the luckiest seven-year-old on the planet.

These last eight weeks have been like my seventh birthday; my soul swells with the sheer joy of togetherness.  My men work late, so timing supper just right is a gamble at best.  But when they do finally arrive, we do not hurry through our meal.  We linger at the table after stomachs are full and talk about anything and everything.  Our nights run late with such a haphazard approach to schedule, but I don’t want to waste one precious moment of this summer.  It is waning so quickly!  I look in disbelief at my calendar and wonder how I can be thinking already about teacher in-service days and that magical first day of school.  It cannot really be time to look backwards and realize summer is nearly gone!

And yet…

I am thankful beyond description for the privilege of having my summer to myself.  What other profession lets you take one quarter of the year off to do whatever you wish?  This teaching gig is unbelievably perfect for me.  I get to work with children (the most honest and transparent creatures on earth), and my job not only gives me days off during the school year, but also gives me the entire summer to renew myself and enjoy family.  I must remind the reader who has never visited my fair state, that warm weather is a luxurious commodity that must have every bit of pleasure sucked from it while it is available.  Fall winds will soon begin to blow and temperatures will drop steadily beginning very SOON.  I have often seen snow in October (yeah, you read it right… OCTOBER!!)

So being able to step away from my job to do just that is intoxicating. I am blissfully, naively, sickeningly content.  I LOVE BEING A TEACHER!  What if I worked year-round?  This amazing, beautiful, perfect summer would have been handed to me, but I would not have enjoyed it with the intensity I have.  Supper would be hurried, and evenings short.

My adult sons will often suggest a night fire in our fire pit.  There is something incredibly mesmerizing about sitting in a circle with a blazing flame in the center.  It relaxes inhibitions and pulls conversation out of people.  We six have lingered around the dying embers unwilling to break the spell of its magic.  When we do finally tear ourselves away and come back into the house smelling of smoke and sticky from S’mores, we are always satisfied that another brick in the wall of Happy Memories has been laid.

And so…

I unwilling glance at the calendar and grudgingly count down the days until this beautiful bubble I am living in bursts.  It is only days, really.  Trevor is off to Grand Forks to take a summer course, Hannah has church youth camp next week, and Ryan must register for dental school in Denver the week after that.  The peaceful coexistence that we have lulled ourselves into is coming to an abrupt halt. 

It is really so wicked of me to whine.  I never thought we would get another entire summer together, just we six.  I had resigned myself to that inevitability. 

And yet, it was handed to me anyhow…

Knowing that this was a fluke of sorts helps me accept that we really will probably never share this experience again.  Internship opportunities, and summer classes, and future relationships will change forever how and when we can come together.  Those things will be wonderful changes in my children's lives.  We will celebrate and cheer each one.

But deep in this mother’s heart, there will be a wellspring of gratitude for one last summer of splendor and a private cherishing of precious memories made.

Thank you, God, for hearing a prayer I didn’t even know I had prayed and answering in perfection. 

The pieces of me that are my children came home for one last perfect summer.

I am blessed beyond measure….