Cultivation

Last year I wrote a happiness plan.
Then life got in the way.
I recently mentioned this in a small group and someone commented, “I hate when life gets in the way of happiness.”
My first reaction was agreement, but then I realized this wasn’t quite what I had meant.

While upheavals in my children's lives derailed that particular plan, I’m not sure that my happiness was completely quashed.
Oh, I definitely wasn’t happy as first one child, then another, then another, had major mental health crises. In fact, their dips into major depression and anxiety took me to the precipice of my own mental well-being.

But these were just circumstances; events that have been an all too frequent part of my life since my children's illnesses became apparent. And before that, I had my own struggles with depression and anxiety. And while the pain of watching my children's suffering is excruciating, somehow I’ve learned to maintain my own core of contentment.

I hope this doesn’t sound crass or lacking in empathy. The number of tears I have shed over the years would fill the sea. Perhaps it’s been learning how to navigate the never-ending waves of sadness over their suffering that has helped me find my own path.

I used to fight against circumstances, questioning why my children had to suffer so. Now I recognize the unfairness not only of their suffering, but of life itself. Everyone suffers with something. If you haven’t yet, your time will come.

I think contentment arises from accepting the “what is” and learning how to live with it, deal with it, make the best of it, rather than always yearning for “what might have been.”

Life is now. This is it, complete with all the happiness and the sorrow. I think I have learned to appreciate the good even when the bad threatens to crush me. Most of the time.

I embrace life and live for now, knowing full-well that tomorrow might bring ever greater sorrows. So today I am thankful for the little things - puppy kisses and cats on my lap, delicious coffee and homemade pie, a sunny day and comfortable shoes, hand spun yarn and knitting needles.

I also give thanks daily for the big things; a husband who loves me and takes care of me, children who are intelligent, witty, and caring, a family full of love.

I wouldn’t say that love conquers all. But with love at my core and a generous appreciation for the here and now, I’ve found I can make it through the crises without losing myself.

And while Happiness can be elusive, contentment often can be cultivated.

Leavings

I stood in the open doorway; most of the furniture was already gone. Just a smattering of cat toys and miscellaneous socks littered the floor.

It was just a little more than a year ago that we repainted her room - a surprise for her return from abroad.

Now she’s leaving in a week - first apartment, first professional job, first time that home will have a different meaning for her.

But the room looks so empty.

We have plans for the space - a computer desk for my husband, an out-of-the-way place for the exercise bike.

It will be ours from now on; she’ll only be coming home to visit.

The cats will have to adjust to having just me; only one lap, one person to exclaim over their antics.

My son busily sorts through his papers, packs books and miscellaneous keepsakes to be stored in our basement. He has lived away before, but now he’s leaving for a grad program in a different state.

No more random coffee cups left on end tables, giant shoes cluttering the entryway; one less person coming and going.

I’ll miss the bang of the attic door and his footfalls down the stairs.

It is time for him to leave; maybe past time.

The dogs will miss him terribly. He has slept with them a couple of times this week; soaking in their kisses and adoration while he can.

The youngest will soon head back to college - a second year away. Home will still be here with us for her; a weekend here and there and vacations.

Our younger son paid off his student loans and is looking for an apartment. He, too, has lived away from home for school, but this will be a true leave-taking.

Just last year people often expressed shock to hear that all my adult children still lived at home. Funny how cultural expectations change over time. We were glad to give them this space to save money, pay off loans, and get their lives on track.

I’m excited for uninterrupted time with my husband. It’s been 28 years since we’ve lived without children at home. Admittedly, the past couple of years have felt kind of crowded at times.

Today I am home alone. Soon, very soon, this will be the norm.

My children are wonderful people and I am going to miss them - terribly at times, I am sure.

It is time for them all to fly away.

Time for me to figure out mothering from afar.

And time for my husband and myself to savor each other’s company again.

I will miss them.

To My Husband on Mother's Day

Where do I begin?
You are my life­ partner, my one and only love, the man with whom I ­- we - ­ have created our amazing family.
Most of the time I recognize that I have been a good mother. Motherhood for me has seemed a kind of calling; ­ the one thing I knew I could do and do well ­ and enjoy more than any endeavor I have ever undertaken.
But without you, my love, I could not have been the good mother I have been.
You have supported me without fail, always ready to help or take over, regardless of how tired you might be after a long day in the field or exhausted from weeks of traveling.
One regret I have (though not the only one) is that I didn’t adequately show you what a wonderful father and life ­mate you are. All those years of sharing the feedings, bathing the babies and children, taking over when you got home, reading, story­telling, holding, laughing, loving our children without fail,­ all those things you did from your never ending well of love for our children and for me, ­ enabled me to be the kind of mother I was.
I’ll always treasure the thrill you had with each new baby, the care you gave me, the love that poured from your heart onto our family, no matter the difficulties we were going through.
Life didn’t turn out quite how either one of us had planned, but because of the strength of the love we have for each other, we were able to pull together to get our children the help they needed.
And no matter what, we always shared laughter -­ lots of laughter.
Every single one of our children is a shining example of what love can create; they are caring, giving, wonderful human beings, and for that you get at least 50% of the credit.
I know we have had rough times in our marriage and our lives, but you have always provided a rock solid groundwork of stability, support, and love, that helped to foster the growth of our children through their mental and physical illnesses.
Heck, you even supported me through the angry outbursts I often directed at you before I got help for my own anxiety and depression.
You are an incredible person, my love.
I cannot find the words to adequately describe the depth of the love your children and I have for you. We appreciate you, we love you unceasingly, and we honor you for the wonderful man and fantastic father you are.
So, on this Mother’s Day, I want to thank you from the depth of my being for loving me and our children. I want to honor you for the incredible father you are.