Thursday, February 24, 2011

Sacredness in the everyday...

We buried Shelly, the tortoise, tonight.  She was sitting on the counter in a ziplock bag all day today and finally I couldn't wait any longer.  My oldest son went out and found a spot next to our last pets to go and dug a nice deep hole.  We brought her out, took her out of the ziploc and laid her in the hole.  We put hay below her and on her and then her log that she would hide beneath in better days.  Before we covered her with the rest of the dirt, we said a prayer of thankfulness.  We took turns filling the hole with dirt as the sun was setting and it was getting cold.  My son placed the little cross made of flagstone and leather on the mound.  We walked toward the house.

I walked behind my son, who is almost as tall as me and is definitely stronger.  He is turning into such a steadfast young man.  He has that sense of what is right like his father and he knows when it's time to be strong and when to love.  After we came in, he picked up his guitar and started playing it in the kitchen while I cooked.  We both didn't say much but it was very comforting to have him there just playing his guitar and occasionally singing.   Then, we sat down and had dinner, just him and I...and talked.  We visited about the upcoming baseball tryouts, the homework that he wished he didn't have, and his plans for next year.  I tried not to make comments on what he should do and should not do and just support what he thinks he needs to try.  We talked about what if's...and how the world will continue to rotate should some of these dreams not come true. 

When my kids were little, I wanted to orchestrate every single thing they did and what they thought.  I wanted to shield them from life, in a way.  That abruptly changed as I lost my mother when the kids were 4 and 2 and they had to watch me grieve.  I wasn't a good pretender so I just told them outright how sad I was and why.  They took it in stride and learned that we live, we experience, we love and we die.  Three years ago, when Jim's father was dying and we were all sitting at his bedside, I looked at my kids while they held his hand, touched him and told him they loved him and it was okay for him to go...that they could probably handle what life is going to throw at them better than I have. 

So what's the point here?  I don't really know except that all that hard work of controlling everything that I was involved in was so much work...and worry...and failure.  Now, my queen calls from college and she is fine.  She's doing her thing without my constant barrage of "you should do this, or if I were you I would do that"  and what do you know...it's okay.  I am going to learn from that last year with her and let my boy...young man...make his choices and take his knocks and he'll probably do just fine too.  Plus, It makes me worry less when I decide I can't control the world, other people...even the ones in my family...I mean, I have trouble controlling myself!

OK, enough for a day and night I think.  We buried a lovely pet, spent time in conversation and had a pretty good dinner..then we laughed for awhile at DYAC (if you haven't been there...it's pretty hilarious and really hilarious to a 16 year old boy). 

What else can a mother ask for?

We'll tawk tommorrow,
I love you all,

1 comment:

Ms. Moon said...

I was talking to a woman a few years ago who has definite "controlling issues" and she said that she knows she stands in the path of her children and says, "go back! wrong path!"
I told her that I am the sort of mother who says, "That sounds like an interesting path. Send me postcards."
I think you are like that too.
Unless they are doing something life-threatening, we need to respect their abilities and choices.