It is often said that “change is inevitable” and that is certainly
true. Most change comes in almost imperceptible
increments over time:
·
One gray hair becomes two, then ten, then a
hundred, then a head full.
·
We step on the scale and have gained a pound…then
suddenly our clothes don’t fit…then we look in the mirror and say, “who is that
fat person?”
·
The naïve puff of a single cigarette or the
taste of a solitary drink or the brief escape of a tiny pill start out
controlled, but become an addiction.
We see change in our faces.
We see change in our spouse, in
our kids. We don’t always notice
because it happens so slowly. Some days
we just wake up and say, “how did this happen?”
Like most people, I’m not a big fan of change. I find comfort in stability. I always have, even when I said that I didn’t. When Connie and I first married, she told me
that no matter what, she did not want our marriage to get “comfortable.” She described it as the “death” of romance
and excitement. I promised that we
would not fall into that trap and we would never become “comfortable.”
We failed. Miserably.
We did become “comfortable.” Extremely “comfortable,” in fact. She admits now that she likes our comfortable
life, and it has not been what either of us would call a “death.” Romance is definitely still there, just
different. It’s not always roses and
candlelit dinners. Sometimes it’s
bringing them a cup of coffee or rubbing a sore back. There are many ways to show your spouse you
love them. The best way is to not expect anything in
return.
Having children changes your perspective rather
quickly. Happiness becomes less about
what you think you’re going to do with your life than about what you want for
someone else. For most of our marriage
we have lived inside a rare bubble of family unity, safety and (for lack of a
better word) “coziness.” We were
blessed with three daughters who generally enjoyed being at home with us and
(most of the time) got along well with each other. I was spoiled.
The last few years have been a little different. That incremental change process began speeding
up. The girls got older, their individual
goals and dreams began to form and challenge our carefully established status
quo. Now I am facing what I have so
long tried to ignore and hoped would just go away. My family is going through drastic changes. Life as I know it will never be the same.
In the last month, three momentous events have occurred in
the lives of my daughters (and therefore, mine and Connie’s). Taylor finished Middle School and will
begin High School in the fall. As our
baby, this is difficult to deal with and not just a reminder, but a relatively
violent slap in the face that we are getting older.
Ashlyn graduated High School last week and will start
college in the fall. Although she will
still be living at home and commuting to classes (which makes me selfishly
happy), it is still a major milestone.
Connie and I both agree that Ashlyn graduating is hitting us much harder
than Shelby’s graduation three years ago.
I’m like that father in the car commercial. I still see Ashlyn as that little blonde
haired toddler, so quick to give a hug and a smile. So young.
Then, last Saturday, Shelby and her friend Lindsey signed a
lease on an apartment, and she will be moving out this summer. Like I said, I have been spoiled by having
all my girls at home for so long.
Shelby has been commuting to college classes for three years, and
although I knew the day would come when she would go, it doesn’t make it any
easier. I wasn’t ready for her to grow
up.
I wasn’t ready for me to grow old.
I went with Shelby and Lindsey to look at the apartment
complex and if you’ve heard the expression “bouncing off the walls,” that was
their reaction to the possibilities of moving out on their own. I was happy to see their incredible
enthusiasm, but as they danced from room to room, pointing out decorating
options and paint colors, I felt like I was suddenly dropped underwater and was
watching it all in slow motion.
That night, we held Ashlyn’s graduation party. Our house was full of celebration and laughter,
and as I sat in the corner, resting from a long day of food preparation and the
trauma of being abandoned by my oldest child, I quietly watched as my girls
interacted with their peers and family.
They are so different from me; more adventurous and open to new things…more
relaxed and happy. I don’t think change
will kick them in the stomach like it seems to do me. I hope not.
I hope they stand firm in their beliefs but keep their minds
open to the possibility of their own misconceptions.
I hope they hold themselves to a higher standard, but do not
place judgment on others.
I hope they realize that “going with the flow” doesn’t mean
letting others take you down a river of destruction.
I hope they find comfort and peace in their hearts, but keep
their mind open to the beauty and mystery that life offers.
I hope that they strive for positive change, and don’t let
the things that are out of their control bring them down.
Most of all, I hope I haven’t screwed them up too bad. I am sure that one of the major concerns I
have with them moving on and moving out is my insecurity that I haven’t done
enough. I have mini panic attacks that
there is some major life lesson that I was supposed to teach them but somehow
forgot. What if they don’t know how to
balance a checkbook? Or boil eggs? What if I never told them that Wrestling is
fake or how to put air in a tire? There
are so many things to teach and so little time.
It’s not that I don’t have faith in them. They are amazing girls who fortunately take
more from their mother than they do from me.
I just don’t have a lot of faith in myself. Some things never change.
