I was standing in my yellow plastic flip flops on asphalt running with tarred spider web lines. I know, because I was looking at them. The morning sun was up, barely, casting a golden glow on the group of scout-shirted young boys, who were piling their stuff in front of a big trailer and otherwise milling around and joking with each other. I had butterflies or something making my stomach feel all fluttery or like there was a dead weight pulling downward on my heart. My little boy isn't so little anymore! Going on his first campout, almost five days, away from home! Would he fit in with the other boys? Would he drift off into a brain coma and fall off a cliff? Would he remember to brush his teeth and wear sunscreen? Would he have the guts to stand up to other boys if they ask him to do something he shouldn't?
I know I sound lame. I know it. I mean, is the world going to end if he doesn't brush his teeth for a week? But really, these questions are just the tip of the iceberg, that lead to deeper questions really at the heart of my anxiety this morning. He is on the cusp of adolescence, as we leave behind a familiar path and head into unknown territory, for both of us. What will the changes bring?
Honestly, the teen years scare the beegeezes out of me. Mostly because I remember my own struggles to find out who I was, search for peer acceptance and eventually find self acceptance, and see my own place in the world. Those years of acne and braces, sorry, wouldn't go back, not in a million years. Painful. But they also taught me a lot, so I wouldn't take them away, either. Maybe that is the elephant in the room that I'm ultimately afraid of. Pain. I don't want to watch my kids suffer. Who does? But some pain, well, just like weightlifting breaks down muscle cells in order to rebuild them in a stronger fashion, so to hard things make us stronger. When the kids are little, protecting them is a full-time job. But as they grow older, that protective role sort of fades, and one mut
Some more experienced mothers helped me feel better on this morning. And then the boys all took their hats off and said a prayer, as the morning light wrapped itself around us and I felt myself suddenly knowing it would be okay. Not only would it be okay, but it would be good. It sure helped that the boy praying prayed that the boys would be safe, listen to their leaders, and work to include all of the boys (I wanted to give his mom a hug right then and there). And you know what, it was a fantastic experience for him. I will admit that I did have a little empty hole in my heart all week. I really, really missed him. So did the rest of the family. It wasn't the same around here without his happy, pleasant personality. (and he helps me a lot more than I realize!)
So, I decided that often the growing pains experiences of parenthood come with transitions-- when children who have been home all day go to school full-time, when they leave behind childhood and eventually leave home. These days are painful because we must find a new way. The old path was good, it was beautiful, filled with gorgeous memories. The new path is unknown, untried. It is more challenging, with more experiences that allow for growth as well as opportunities for bigger slip-ups. And a parent treading this road must go from holding a hand, to a gradual change to encouragement and cheerleading.
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