Strings

Recently two of my friends have faced a part of life I'd been happy to put aside and call done. One, four years my junior, I've known since her birth. In fact I was present when her mom started gasping summer air and gripping her pregnant contracting belly, with her inside. This friend moved far enough away to make some breathing room for her family, and now, with loving hubby, preschooler and newborn in tow, daily wields and swings chiseling hammer, crafting her own joyful, responsible, adult identity. She blooms so beautifully in this new life, and my rejoicing in her brilliant blossom overpowers my sadness at increased rarity of our visits. The common perception of what "cutting the apron strings" means, is independence of parental financial support and housing, but I think it goes a bit deeper. Subtle bits of thread hang on still, in my experience, when a person remains in close proximity and contact with their parents. True forging of identity, understanding, personal beliefs, purpose and opinion, require a significant removal from parental presence for a time, in my opinion. My dear friend has learned this happy lesson and has unexpectedly discovered that when she does see her parents, the quality of the visits has considerably improved. The other aforementioned friend, a more recent (by recent I mean about 8 years) acquaintance, is growing every day more excited over this prospect, as she plans and hopes to do the same in near future.

Enter me, who as I said, took this step quite some years back, and have already endured the surrounding trials and triumphs. On the other side, now I question myself every day. Does living here again, supported and instructed and protected by my parents, attach new strings, that in time I'll once more have to sever? I'm reminded why leaving home is a necessary part of adulthood - the expectations and projections exhaust and suffocate. I gather from the tales of others that most if not all parents do this to their adult children, and perhaps it's motivated somewhat by subconscious desire for the benefits of the empty nest. My parents, salt of the earth, generous, godly and loving and so much more, are amongst my closest friends. I have much to be thankful for. However, in my opinion, my early severing has much to do with this intimacy and fondness. It fed the affection for and admiration of my parents I now hold. Cohabitation though, I suppose, erodes the quality of most relationships. Freshly aged to 33, trailed by mile long career history, three kids of my own, four years mostly handling every facet of parenthood and household alone, under my belt, I consider myself a full-fledged adult, who's paid enough dues to earn the title of woman. Suddenly I have a bedtime again, zero personal space or privacy, and stringent expectations of behavior, restraint, belief, attitude and work ethic. Persistent reminders that nothing in life is easy, free, or without sacrifice.

So I look again at my parents and humility hits me upside the head. They chose to move in with my grandfather and have selflessly sacrificed their freedom and much of their ministry, devoting countless stressful hours of labor and attention to his care. Dad moved in with his parent too, not to receive protection and support but to protect and serve and now I've added four bodies and hungry mouths to their load. Thank God He forgives constantly my petty murmurings and mutterings. Here comes a smile.

Blessings, V