Transitions

My kids are in transition years. And I get weepy every time I think about it. What's going on here?

I who remained (not resolutely, just by default) dry-eyed at every other milestone, am not able to keep my heart in one piece when I think about my daughter graduating from college... Previously taking perverse pride in being unsentimental, I now can't look at my new high-school-graduate son without tearing up.

What's that about?

A Plan

I decided to walk until I had a plan. It only took about 10 miles.

I believe it's a good plan, too. There's something about putting one foot in front of the other for a few hours that gets the brain in gear. Almost as if the cogs are intertwined, and the feet are an engine that clears the haze. I forget this at my peril.

Too too many weeks (in truth, months) have passed in a state of agitation and lethargy. It must be stopped. And now I have a plan.

Lessons

Some lessons learned in this spring of 2008:

You can't force someone to grow. I've always known this in my heart, but I suspected that my unwillingness to take a tough approach to teaching came from weakness rather than philosophy. But a recent case study reinforces the stupidity of believing that any of us wield enough power to force another person to learn, to change, to grow. All we can do is provide an environment that allows risk-taking.

Details are double-edged swords. Ignore them at your peril. But fixate on them disproportionately and they become missiles of destruction.

Just when you think they weren't paying attention, kids will demonstrate that they have absorbed more than you ever wanted them to. If only we could pass on only our better traits to the next generation.

Having a tenuous grasp on the past can also be a blessing. Forgetting has its liabilities, but the ability to move on may be a gift.

The biggest lessons come as a surprise. A friend who faces terminal illness with grace, another who lives with faith despite crushing economic hardship, a loved one who has the courage to be happy again.

Saturation

My brother taught me that rainy days provide some of the best opportunities for nature photography. Even though bright sunny days seem optimal, the color is most saturated on days like today.

The rain is more welcome than I had anticipated. This week's dose of spring sunshine was exhilarating, but the rain is what I needed.


I'm not a true nature girl, but I relish the power of nature to lift me outside myself, to provide gentle external larger-than-myself motion that somehow quiets my mind. It's why we love the seashore and the fireside. The waves and the flames create a rhythm that's far more harmonious than the frantic rhythm of our own minds. So I submit to the motion of the rain and the drama of the thunder, and I find some of the clarity I've buried beneath the debris of my thoughts.

Taking the camera out in the rain also brought the opportunity to spend time with loved ones. My mom's Garden Angels keeping watch over the flowers, my grandmother's old water pump, and my husband's grandfather's wagon wheel.

Moving On

I just made a familiar commute for probably the last time. A short-term arrangement took me periodically to a town a few hours south of home, and now my reason for driving there is gone. I've never been one to be sentimental about the past, but I'm entering what I sense will be a period of change that will challenge me more than any before.

I shall miss Route 29, oddly enough. I've grown up a lot on this road, perhaps more than I have almost anywhere else. My first dozen trips were fraught with sadness and fear. Incrementally, the anxiety was replaced with quiet happiness and optimism.

This time, there was wistfulness. These days are good days, and I'm not sure I want to let them go.

Heaven

I'm a believer, but I've never felt as if the tools we're given in this life are sufficient to understand what lies beyond. But recently I've discerned a definition of heaven that doesn't feel earthbound.

Heaven is a place where all the people you've ever loved are happy.

Serenity Prayer

I came of age in the 60's and the 70's, and the Serenity Prayer was a bit of a cliche. That powerful mantra that helped so many people get their lives back from all sort of addiction and abuse became trite. So it's receded into a cobwebbed corner of my mind.

Time to dust it off. I tend to be full of misbegotten courage to change the things I think I can. But I'm coming up way short on the acceptance and wisdom parts. I am, more and more, trying to operate outside what the motivational speakers call my "circle of influence."

I don't exactly know why, but I sense that I do need to figure out the reasons before this will be fixed.