My kids are finding their ways—and while I may have given them a little push in the right direction (or the direction I thought was right), they are tumbling and bumbling down hills and through pastures of their own findings. My little push was more of a suggestion, I must admit.
There are things I can own as the mom of not doing everything right. The realization of where I went wrong sometimes slaps me like a strong winter wind—icy and near-unbearable knowing now what I obviously didn’t then.
Yet, if I retreat a little—if I step away from the seasonable evidences of before and jump into the thick of the season now, I know that I have done something right…or at least, that Someone is doing something right in my kids, regardless of me. I am proud of them. I miss them already—even though they are under my roof. They are making their lives work without my constant supervision.
But the season still wears and tears at my heart, because I am rarely ready for change, and hardly realize it till my heart is aching.