Kicking cancer's ass - day 4703

Parenting adult children is a mixed bag of blessings. I love seeing who they are turning out to be. I love watching them succeed as they navigate life. Thriving at jobs and school, surrounding themselves with good people, forging their own paths... it's incredible to watch. But I miss my kids. Not only do I love them, I genuinely LIKE them and I miss being a part of their everyday lives. (Thank God for Snapchat... ha ha) They are smart and kind and funny and being their mom has always brought me such joy. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and I saw a post this morning on Facebook which described it perfectly.

This resonates with me SO MUCH. If you know me at all, you know I love lighthouses. I have ever since I was a little girl sleeping in the same bed in the same beach house in the same small town in Maine watching the lighthouse through the window every night for one magical week each summer. I am a lighthouse.

I know our job as parents is to make sure our kids grow up to be responsible adults and prepare them for life... and slowly they start needing us less and less. That's the way it's supposed to be, but that's a hard one for me. I like to be needed. I like to help, I like to solve problems, I like to be a part of things with them. Going from being the quarterback of the team to a fan in the bleachers is an adjustment I don't think I was fully prepared for. 

One sentence from that post really struck me:

Maybe it’s about learning to love them from the shore, keep the light on, and trust that no matter how far they sail, they’ll always know how to find their way home.

A mother's job is never done. The worry never goes away. The prayers are nonstop. But maybe these words will help me navigate through this season of my children finding their own way—they need me less, and the ways they need me has changed, but I can be their lighthouse. Watching. Steady. And keeping the light on at home.