A mother’s conversation with her daughter
My daughter Noelle got married at
the age of 30. She was the last of my three children to have tied the knot and
as she took her vows I breathed a sigh of relief and thought, “At last, they all have finally moved on”.
Of course, as with all weddings
there were ups and downs with family members and in laws, wedding plan
catastrophes and relative disappointments. But nothing would have prepared me
for the comment Noelle made on the return of her honeymoon.
“Mom” she said. “I feel like I got
married and you abandoned me.”
“What?!” I replied.
“Yeah, every time a situation comes
up you tell me to go figure it out. It’s like you don’t want any part of my
life anymore.”
That couldn’t have been further from
the truth. I’ve always been there for all three of my children. Noelle was the
youngest of the brew. Her brother Jonathan was four years older than her and
her brother Jason was 21 months older than Jonathan. I guess you could say that
I was always there for them growing up. Figuring things out for them, bailing
them out of pretty much every dark corner they backed themselves into. I was a
fixer. That was my position and they knew it. But after marriage I figure it’s
time to grow up. It took them a little longer than most. Jason married at 32,
Jonathan at 30. I married at 20, so in my eyes they were late bloomers. So when
Noelle accused me of abandonment I couldn’t have disagreed more.
“Noelle,” I said, “I haven’t
abandoned you, I’ve just taken a seat in the bleachers and am watching you
swing at the balls comin’ at ya. And I have to say, you might wanna step up in
the box, you’ll have a better chance of hitting one of them.”
“That’s what I mean Mom, if you took
the bat you would hit the ball out of the stadium and I could have been on base
already.”
“My point exactly, you need more
practice at the plate. I haven’t left the stadium, I’m here with my Starbucks
cheering you on. You’ll hit it, you just need more practice.”
Yeah, but I’ve watched you swing and
you hit the ball out of the park every time. I could be here striking out
forever!”
“Really, So, you think I was always
great at this game? Let me tell you, there was a time when I couldn’t even find
my way out of the dugout. And low and behold one day I felt the wind of the
ball flying past me as it almost hit me in the head, good thing I ducked or it
would have knocked me out. It was then that I got mad, picked up that bat and
started swinging. And did I strike out? Absolutely! But I never stopped
playing. I swung and I swung and one day I actually hit the ball. I was called
out on first but it made me more determined to out run the ball the next time
and before I knew it I had made it to third base. Out of breathe, dirt in my fingernails
and one ass kickin’ grin on my face cause I knew all I needed was one more base
and I would have hit a home run. Nothing would stop me now. Again I took to
home plate, and I saw it…this time I would hit a home run. The ball came flying
by and I froze, “Ball!” life screamed. I stepped up in the batter’s box, life
threw its second ball, I swung and I heard, “Strike One!” F**k!,
I thought. I became more focused, I wrapped my hands tighter around the bat and
I lowered my head, focused like a lion getting ready to attack its prey and
then… “Strike Two!” “God damn! Please,
not another strike out,” I prayed. And then I stepped out of the box, I
took a breath, hit the dirt out of my cleats with the bat, relaxed and
visualized hitting that damn ball out of the park. More determined than ever I
entered the batter’s box, got in position and silently said to that pitcher,
“C’mon mother f**ker give me everything you got.” I watched as the ball came at
me with lightning speed, and before I knew it my body swung that bat, the bat
connected with the ball and I watched as it went over the fence and out of the
stadium. My first home run!…finally.
So I sit in the bleachers sipping my
coffee and I cheer for you my darling. I feel your frustration, I honor your
intent, and I root for your success. I pray for your persistence, but my time
hitting balls for you has ended. It’s your game now. Abandon you? Never.
Empower you? Always. There is only one way I can do that and that is to leave
you to your game and allow you to play it your own way, in your own time, with
the team you pick, and the strategies you come up with.
Now go practice, find you inner
source and put it to work. It’s just a game, have fun and know that no matter
what happens there will always be another inning, another ball to hit, another
game to play with different players in different stadiums. Hit them one ball at
a time, take your time, aim and believe you own the ball, the field and the
fans. And remember there will always be one constant…I’ll always be in the
bleachers.
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