“I’m going to do it all different, better.”
That was my wordless declaration as an adolescent girl, rose-colored glasses perched precariously on my button nose.
The idealism of youth can be a powerful motivator, a fire-in-the-belly, a pedestal of goals to stand upon (and fall down from).
And yet, that was me. My first-born determination … the embodiment of ‘the iron that had entered my soul’. I was going to do it all different, better than my parents, my mother.
In recent years I have come to understand that my rose-colored glasses, first-born determination and good intentions amounted to …
so many more failures than I’d counted on.
The unexpected, undesirable results have had me wondering what I missed in my perfectly planned goals. They have also caused me to take another look at the parental case study of my early years, my own parents.
And this reflection has had me hanging my (arrogant, critical) head in shame …
for now I am starting to get it,
for it is not all about me … me goals … my plans … my formula.
We, as mums (since, I am a mum), set out to do and achieve our goals … not a bad place to start, but we cannot influence every result, we are not the only ones who impact our households. We also mess up, in all of our humanness. Then there is that blessed curse of freewill (I hope God is ready for a tête-à-tête when I arrive in heaven)!
Awhile back, in the midst of an intense conversation with one of my kids, I expressed something like, “I cannot believe you would think that was the right decision on that subject.”
To which they responded, “how am I supposed to know what is the right decision, this is the first time I have been this age, in this situation.”
BOOM!
mic drop
Good intentions aside, aren’t we all living this life for the first time? There are no professionals in this thing we call life. And, life does not have a formula to follow for guaranteed results (save such lofty hopes for products promising to defy the effects of aging). We do our best (the only thing we can do) and then … life happens.
It all brings me back to my adolescent declaration that “I will do it all differently, better.”
I can now see how well my parents did, with what they knew, what they had at their disposal. They did their level best. Could it have been better? Of course. But, they were limited by the same realities that I am. They were doing their best, because they were living their situations, their lives, for the first time.
Now, I watch my mum navigating the changes and challenges of her life in the past few years. As she has walked through grief and loneliness. As I have observed her learning new things, making tough choices, making decisions on her own, embarking on independence later in life. You see, this is the first time she has been in this place, this time.
And my rose-colored glasses have been lifted off my face.
And I see now, with a clarity I was blind to in my youth.
And something new replaces a formula for guaranteed results.
It’s grace, understanding that this is her first go-around too.
I am learning to give grace to her, as a practise of the Golden Rule … to treat her in a manner I would hope to be treated.
I am so proud of you mum … thanks for modelling that you can pivot, change in the winter of life … your first time being this age.
itsawonderfilledlife 