She marched past me on the path, “coming on your left.” It was a two-mile path surrounding a pond, home to paddleboats, geese, ducks, and a couple of white cranes.
On cue, I moved aside to the right. Deep in thought, I didn’t notice the smoke that appeared like a shadow behind the little frame that bustled by. I looked over because I suddenly smelled gas. The woman wore light beige yoga pants and a matching colored exercise bra. Her silver hair was tied in a ponytail, which dangled through her visor cap. She must have been in her early sixties, but she brisked down the path like someone much younger.
A yellow school bus whizzed by on the street next to the path. She said, “It’s that time of year again.” I smiled and nodded. She smiled, and the moment was gone just like the smoke-filled gasoline smell in the air.
“Yep,” I replied to no one around. What’s this year going to be like, I wondered. I felt sad. The sight of the school bus brought many memories of my two daughters during their elementary and middle school years. I remember vividly standing on the corner with them in the morning with several other neighborhood children during the rains, snows, and countless windy days, waiting for the bus pickup. Then, running out again in the afternoon to meet them as they got off the bus, excited to hear about their day.
These days, my daughters are both in high school. One is a junior and the other a senior. I drive them in the mornings and then pick them up later. Our car rides are quiet. They’re exhausted and hungry, consumed with friend issues and homework.
They want to drive themselves now. It’s a touchy situation. They want liberty. I want control still. Parenting is tough. The world yanks at them; I try my hardest to hold them tight. I know it’s coming, the time to release. I’m praying that what I’ve been teaching, equipping, and training them in knowledge and wisdom will come to fruition. There’s an ache in my heart as I trek. It’s my third go-around on the path, but I’m not tired. The yoga lady is up way ahead of me. I keep going.
We’ve had a good summer. Now, we have to be scheduled for school, activities, and jobs. I know my kids won’t be under my watch for much longer. It’s a reality I don’t like to feel. Teenagers are into themselves and rarely care about how adults feel, especially their mother. Every school year start is like post-partum depression dragging me down. Many mothers have experienced this to varying degrees. I had post-partum depression with both girls, especially with my second child.
It’s weird. There are nine months in a gestational period, and nine months for a school year. Here’s the kicker. When one is pregnant for nine months, the child is cocooned in the woman’s womb, protected from the world. With school, it’s nine months that they’re out of the house in the world. So, it’s an oxymoron for sure. I understand I can’t be everywhere. I’m not a helicopter mom; I guess I want to always be their protector, but it’s not realistic. My job is to point them to the Lord and raise them as best as I can so they can be contributing citizens to society.
I’m at the start of my fourth turn around the pond. I step on the grass and crouch near the water. It’s calm today. A female duck is poking her head in and out of the water. She looks like she’s washing her hair. I chuckle.
I rise and turn. The springy woman is leaving, getting into her car. I stretch from side to side. Do I have it in me for another turn? Yeah, I whisper. I’m going to pray this time as I walk. Pray that my girls will have a wonderful, wisdom-growing year of trials and triumphs and growing closer to Jesus.
Proverbs 22:6. Train up a child in the way he should go, And when he is old he will not depart from it.
Ephesians 6:4. And you, fathers, do not provoke your children to wrath, but bring them up in the training and admonition of the Lord.
Luke 18:16. But Jesus called them to Him and said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of God.
Until next time.
Be well. Be safe. Be happy!
References:
Photo by Alex Green: https://www.pexels.com/photo/anxious-black-woman-covering-face-with-hand-on-bed-5700162/
