One of my daughter’s favorite things to do as a little girl was to dress up as a princess and discover new treasures. Donning our gold, plastic crowns we ‘treasure hunted’ together. She sat mesmerized as I’d pick precious treasures from my jewelry box and place them in her hands while I told stories about where each one had come from.
Tori is no longer sitting next to me with a gold, plastic crown on her head. She turned 18 this summer and is entering her final year of high school. She was eager to begin her position as a Drum Major for her high school band.
The first day of band practice had arrived. My heart felt the impact of letting go as I helped her carry several bags of supplies to her truck. “Thanks Mom” she said as she slipped into the driver’s seat of her navy blue pick-up she calls Shevy the Chevy. “You’re welcome sweet girl.” 70’s music filled the air and I blew her a kiss goodbye.
I could not inhale deeply enough in that moment to loosen the weight I felt resting on my chest. I feared that if I had attempted to, she might notice and take on an additional invisible bag she need not carry.
My emotions threatened to breach the sacred space of her excitement as she drove away heading into a much larger territory than the space of our home.
A wall of cold air hit me as I opened the front door of our home. It was a welcomed and instant relief from the Texas heat. The overstuffed double chair received me just as I was…a mixture and mess of joy and sorrow. I sat in the silence, eyes brimming and heart vulnerably tender.
“You should be past this by now – you’ve navigated this letting go thing 3 times already.”
The harshness of my thoughts took me by surprise. I noticed. Quickly, a mental list of things to do appeared in my head gaining energy with a push to ‘toughen up and get busy’.
Sinking into the softness of my chair I gave myself permission to stay, to breathe, to tend to my heart and pay attention to what I was listening to. Letting go was just part of it. Regret was also nipping at my heart.
I remembered the words my daughter and I had exchanged the night before, words fueled with fear and passion over a painful and heavy decision she had been challenged to make…a big one. In an attempt to lighten her load, I offered my unsolicited advice, striving to change her mind and lead her away from the difficulty of her struggle.
“Why would you think about…”
“You should wait…”
“You should wonder about how your decision will affect…”
My words were birthed from my own need to relieve her pain coupled with my longing for Heaven on earth for her. I wanted to save her. I wanted to protect her, to shield her from my perceptions of the future and the possible what-if’s. She wanted her right to make her own decision.
Frustration had left us both in need of space to breathe.
It is in these moments that death comes for my mother’s heart. “Why did I have to say anything! Why couldn’t I just be quiet!” Doubt began to convince me I was lacking in my ability to mother my daughter. Guilt and doubt threatened to shame me to death for the day.
But death did not win.
I chose to pray. I asked for help for her and for me. I chose faith over fear.
Regret dissipated into relief as I considered the possibility of a re-do, a second chance to listen well and trust God for His provision. Lovingkindness came for my mother’s heart and created space to receive mercy that lifted me from my chair and invited me to life. I was still a mess of joy and sorrow, but dependent and willing to hold both feelings and wait.
Gratitude slowly replaced the gravity of the conflict as my focus changed throughout the day. I could see our daughter for who she is – a young adult exercising her right to choose.
God’s grace showed up in the midst of our re-do later that evening. Real treasure.
That is what I want to give my daughter as she moves into the larger territory of this world. I want to point her to Jesus, to share the witness of my need for our Savior’s grace. I want to bless her integrity to choose kindness for her heart. I want her to know that no matter how many or how big her mistakes, God is present and faithful to give us second chances.
Ellen Oelsen lives in the Texas Hill Country with her husband of 26 years. She is a mother of 4 children and loves their 2 dogs and 1 cat. Her hobbies include cooking, nature, reading, plays, and two stepping. She delights in offering hospitality of the heart and creating spaces of care, rest, play and reflection to inspire hope. She is beginning to expose the writer within her.
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Choosing faith over fear is so hard for me every time. I love that your beautiful daughter is drum major. What a huge honor and accomplishment! I love the instrument cages in the background. I love a year off of marching band before my next generation enters high school. My drummer boy is taking a gap year after 4 years of high school and marching drumline every year. Choosing faith over fear in this season of parenting adults and young people is such a struggle for me. Thank you for sharing your heart and giving words to the feelings and permission to take space. I hope you are able to savor this last marching season and enjoy watching your girl hold the reins. Every Blessing to you both!
Thanks for your kind words, Julie. What an accomplishment for your son – 4 years of marching band and drumline…a commitment indeed. A year off before your ‘next generation’ begins sounds refreshing and your mother’s heart of desire to choose faith over fear is a blessing. I join you in that desire…Yes to savoring the blessings!
Your sharing brought back a scene years ago of a struggle between my only daughter and me. She was considering a decision that would likely lead to difficult circumstances for her to suffer. As your words catapulted me back I felt my heart go cold. My mind began an attack of unkindness against myself. Then I pictured you in your chair holding sorrow and joy. I’m in my chair encouraged to offer myself the same. AND … my daughter is now the mother of her own girls and we often share our hearts on mothering. God had been gracious to chart a sweet journey for us.
Valerie – Thank you for your story about you and your daughter and the sweetness of how you now share mothering between you…a gift of hope and a glimpse into God’s gracious goodness. Blessings to you, your daughter and your granddaughters.
Your words are a balm for this mother’s heart as I embrace the treasures of do-overs, second chances, and grace!!!!!!!! I also am reminded to “Sink into the softness of my chair, give myself permission to stay, to breathe, to tend to my heart and pay attention to what I am listening to. Thank you.
Thanks sister of mine! You are an inspiration – a balm to many T – including me! Love you much!
“The harshness of my thoughts took me by surprise. I noticed. Quickly, a mental list of things to do appeared in my head gaining energy with a push to ‘toughen up and get busy’.”
I can certainly relate to this and squirmed at the realization of how often I do this. I will strive to find my own “soft chair” in those moments. Thank you.
I do so hope there are many ‘soft chair’ moments of rest and much kindness for your heart Angela. Blessings to you.
Even thought it’s not my fourth, I can relate to what you’re saying. I sometimes have regrets about what I say, but also sometimes what I didn’t say. It’s a hard balancing act.
Hi Michelle – Thanks for your words and your vulnerability…Sounds like you are aware of regret and yes – it feels hard. May you allow kindness in the midst of regret as you consider your dear mother’s heart and desire for your kids! Love and blessings to you and your family!
Beautifully written, my friend. I can so see your heart in this for Tori. You are the one person who consistently directs me back to Jesus. What a gift for Tori…and me! Thank you!
Thank you for your encouragement Mary Jane – your friendship has also been very special to me and you too (on many occasions) have pointed me to Christ…for my marriage, my family and my self…your presence has been a gift in my life. Thankful!
I love that you stayed in the softness of that chair, paying attention and tending to your heart…beautiful!