Collecting Tears Towards A New Day

Forever ago, I used to collect tears from my toddler children and place them in my pocket as a reminder that A, I acknowledge their pain; and B, their tears are a temporary pathway to something better. Usually the routine of motherly tenderness worked, and within moments, my child would be off again frolicking in the world of discovery and fun.

Now, as the mother of adult children with big lives of their own, I often find myself longing  for the old days when a tear placed in a pocket could provide the same fix. However, we all know as our kids grow, their aches and pains grow. Big person problems tend to be a bit more complicated than a skinned knee, and although the desire to make better remains a passionate longing, the fact is we cannot shield our adult kids from hard times. Full stop.

So, the question is, with regard to adult children, how do we lean in when they are hurting? How do we reconcile the inevitable transition from fixer-in-chief to supporter-in-chief?  And what does such support look like? For those of you with adult children, you know this is the 64-thousand-dollar question.

I guess the first step is to reconcile the fact that you cannot spare their pain. Despite the fact you might bite the inside of your cheeks raw or chase the abyss of sleepless nights with an abundance of worry, the reality is the difficulties in their lives are beyond your control. The angst can be awful.

For me, the conundrum is this. Do I or don’t I? Do I call for the umpteenth time to ask how they are or do I allow space and trust God’s grace will soothe their hurting heart like an embrace with a warmed blanket. Do I give in to the default of overbearing suffocation or do I trust in their ability to navigate with their own cultivated life tools garnered through community with those they love.  We can only hope there are pathways forward beyond our reach that will envelop them with confidence and clarity.  Prayer helps, too.

I think there is also some offering of centeredness in the discipline of staying in the present.  The vast unknown always threatens with tormenting what-ifs, but these unknowns have nothing for worried claws to grasp. What is sure is the now. Showing up unafraid to be with them in whatever their moment poses might be comforting. Just maybe. Chicken noodle soup always helps as well.

We can remind our kids they are strong. We can remind our kids of their ability to navigate tough times. And, I think most poignant, we can remind our kids of all the personal growth we’ve been observing over the years as they’ve grown into themselves.

We can’t prevent heartache for them, but perhaps we hope the same yearning tucked between their childhood tears can translate into strength and resilience in their grown up world.

All we can wish for when the dark of night has descended, our very grown up kids can simply put one foot in front of the other in trust and faith. I remember what my mom always said to me. In the midst of my most difficult days, she would offer an all-encompassing hug and whisper into my ear these words: No matter how long the night, a new day is sure to come. Her wisdom has become mine, and I will always remind my children even as they navigate hard times that a new day will dawn.