Work, in it's rigidity provides the safety of knowing what to do next, which is precisely why it's loses flavour and leads to boredom. We deal with the same people everyday and go through the same eight hour routine to keep the big machine running. Just show up, stay within the lines and check out at six. Because it's so redundant, I often find myself fantasizing about my weekend wishing it would come sooner. I tend to think that life happens only on weekends because then everything is organic and therefore fun. Instead, I worry about maximizing this freedom by planning my days off. But the truth is most of the time my calendar is filled with obligations, home admin and chores. In the end I find myself needing to relax even before my Friday comes while an evident scenario with nothing organic about it plays out as a threat.
But.
When I peel the onion of this routine, I find so much life in it.
This week, my son turned twenty seven. During our dinner celebration (check), I listened to my kids updates on work, school and love lives. It surprises me how they know what they're doing; how wittily and humorously they translate their experiences over a meal. They're responsible and independent young adults today. Their minds are open, curious and they are daring. They're also honest about their feelings and no nonsense about heart issues, which continue to confuse them. I laugh at a slightly mean streak each one possesses and am thankful that this not exceed the maximum cute level. I think. Whatever.
Yesterday my boys showed up by my side to to comfort a friend who lost her brother. These days I no longer impose, you see. I try my best to leave them the option of doing what they think is best. I want them to make choices based on their personal truths and values. Last Monday, I sent out a group SMS with the details of this sad event and suggested that we all go. That's it. One by one each RSVP'd back. Daughter had to work which is just as responsible, but the boys said they would pay their respects. Now, I acknowledge that a memorial is a difficult occasion to attend. Nevertheless, my youngest drove with me to Concord and my oldest met us at the service (check). The gesture of coming alongside each other and showing up as one speaks of an unspoken language peculiar to a strong family bond. To experience this with my children when least expected and without maternal coercion is what it's about. We sat together and condoled with the family. We reached for each other during the heart tugging parts of the eulogy and sent silent messages of "I'm here" through hand squeezes, humbled by the vulnerability of life. Later, I watched them interact with others. My boys are cool, confident, articulate and well mannered. They're lighthearted, sincere and empathetic. I was told over and over again how endearing they were. I am so thankful that they're mine.
Time flies and now I've been a Mom for twenty seven years. I still don't know what I'm doing. But life happens inside it's rigidity after all. Last week this was a mere to do list. Proof yet again that I have a powerful Partner in life although He may not be visible. All I need to do is walk the line cause He fills up the spaces in between and surprises me to no end.
So here I am checking off my "write blog" bullet point while the washing machine is running (check: laundry), counting the hours before jump starting my work week. Wait. Why count down? I'm on my way to a sleep over (check: drive south, spend night). There I will relax and watch what else happens.
God, you're the Man.
Thanks.
No comments:
Post a Comment