Some of the most profound lessons I've learned during this lifetime have been those taught to me by my children. My experience has been that the lessons themselves are ultimately quite simple, and children have such a wonderful ability to see things in their most pristine, simple form. I'm sure there have been times when my kids shook their heads and sighed as they watched me try to make things more complicated than they were. Having four children of my own has been quite the learning experience for me, for each one has his or her own unique way of being-and therefore teaching.
The thing about being the parent is that sometimes we simply don't want to be the adult in a given situation. I admit there were times when I thought I couldn't keep going that one of the youngsters would bring me up short, saying, "Mama, what have you always told us?" Uh-oh! Have I been caught and called on the carpet. No, I wasn't walking the walk when that happened (and it happened more than once I assure you!) How humiliating! I was talking a good game, but when push came to shove, I couldn't practice what I preached! (Please forgive all the cliche!) At least I found out when these situations arose that just because their eyes glazed over every time I got on my soapbox didn't mean they weren't paying attention. HA!
I don't think it's necessarily bad for our roles with our children to change from time to time-just so long as it's not a permanent role reversal. It's good for us to find out what it's like to be the child and for them to find out just how powerless and ineffective we, as the adults, feel sometimes. I have personally gained a greater appreciation for each child as an individual as we've gone through these changes in our lives.
I raised my youngest child by myself from the time she was eight years old. This was a very scary thing for me. I was a typically disempowered woman who didn't believe she could raise a child alone. But she and I got through those growing up years a step and a stumble at a time. I remember one Mother's Day in particular when she and I were arguing. I was feeling sorry for myself because I felt that she wasn't honoring me the way I wanted her to. A friend of mine was watching us, and after my daughter walked away in a huff, smiled and said, "You're doing a good job raising each other."
And that's exactly what we were doing-raising each other. I have no doubt that on the soul level she and I agreed to raise each other for those last ten years of her minority. Ours wasn't the ordinary mother/daughter relationship that most families experience. Yes, I was the mom and she the little girl. But we were also like sisters much of the time, and often like roommates and best friends. We were very close to each other and knew that when no one else in the world could be trusted, we could trust each other. I was involved in all of her activities and we were very close.
That's why it was so hard a year ago when she decided to move 1,000 miles away to Orlando, Florida to go to school. Yes, there was a young man involved-she knew better than to try to BS me on that. But the schools there offered training in dance-her first love-that she couldn't get here at home.
I knew when she made the decision to go that our relationship would change in a way that it never had before. I also knew that as close as we had always been, our relationship had to change form for our individual evolution. She needed to strike out on her own and be totally independent. And I had things I needed to do that I couldn't for so long as all my attention was on her.
I didn't sleep much the night before she left. I wanted to hang onto each moment, knowing that it would be a very long time before I saw her again. I asked her that morning if she still wanted to do this. I think I saw the beginning of a tear form in her eye as she nodded her head. We both knew that it was necessary for her to make this journey so far from home-from me. So I helped her pack the last things in her car and watched her back out of the driveway. Watched her drive down the street until I couldn't see her any more. My youngest, my baby, my little butterfly. No matter how it hurt my heart to let her go, I had to let her fly.
It's been a year since my little butterfly few away. So much has changed. We are no longer the same people we were a year ago. She left here without a job and not knowing where she would stay the second night she was there. She found a job and stayed with a family friend until she could move into her own apartment. She continued calling me every time she was frustrated, but she and I were both learning that I can't fix her drama for her. The last few months she's gotten to where she solves her own problems very well without my input. This makes me happy. I must have done something right for her to have grown up the way she has.
I'm awaiting her arrival home. Not the home we shared together-that's no longer there. And that's as it should be. That home no longer served us. I know that she will be surprised at how grown up she is now. We will visit for a week, and when it's time, she will return to Florida, her new home, and I will continue my work as Spirit directs me. I think we have done a great job of raising each other.
I have many labels. I am a Healer, a Lightworker, a Metaphysician, a spiritual guide. I'm told I've helped a lot of people, and I, too, have grown much in this past year. But today as I wait for my butterfly's return, I am just a mother.
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