Growing Pains

Photo by Figgy Hurley.

Some things are just too personal to share, even though it's tempting, with this nice white screen before me--it feels so good to transfer emotions from heart and mind to computer keyboard. 

Suffice it to say that I've been finding motherhood hard these days--because my teen is not as forthcoming with what she needs as when she was a little girl, but I still feel I should be able to provide it. To be there for her. To understand.

It's very hard to stand by and watch....to trust and observe and believe and encourage.....when someone wants to push you away.

I worry and I fret and I pray. Today, I sat on the couch and cried. And then I called Moey, and later, Sis. I went to boot camp. I picked Figgy up from her friend H.'s house. She had fun there. That made me happy. Her grades are good. That makes me proud. But other things, changing things, make me anxious and worried.

I have a friend who belonged to a prayer group of moms who prayed for their kids. I didn't really get it at the time. Now I do. Teens have quite a road to maneuver, and it's complicated whether they're in the car or on the shoulder, rising high on a bridge or going through a tunnel, driving or sitting in the passenger seat looking out the window. The bumps can be big; the road can be rocky. Everyone cannot be trusted, and they have to learn that. They have to trust themselves above all, and they have to learn that, too.

Today I talked briefly to Dad about it, on my three-hour visit. He said it's always been typical for teens to pull away from their parents. I said Figgy hasn't been talking to us too much. She never talked too much, he said matter-of-factly. I guess you're right, except when she was little, I said. Or with her friends, I should have added.

Sweet dreams. Good night. I'm going off with happy thoughts of my Sis saying my prayers with me on my twin bed with the aqua bedspread in our room on Bedford Road. Big sister and little sister; I used to recite them to her. I know exactly how it went every night.

Dear God, please bless Mommy and Daddy and Grandpa and Grandpa 

aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, the whole world, God--

and if you do, I'll thank you very, very much.

[Why didn't I mention my siblings Sis, J. and Will? That ain't right--and there I was reciting the prayer night after night to Sis. How odd.]

Later, my bedtime mantra evolved into a hybrid version of a prayer we learned with Sister Agnes at St. Mary's in our first grade catechism.

Oh angel of God, my guardian dear

to whom God's love commits me here

Ever this day be at my side

To light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen.

And when I'm praying for someone else, I just change the handy-dandy pronoun in the first line from my to his or her. How funny that I was six when I learned that prayer but it has stood me in good stead for my entire life. I was so young--but old enough to know that I sure as shooting wanted an angel by my side to guide me. If I recall correctly, I think there was also a picture of a lovely angel, and that probably pulled me in, too.


Here's to the power and beauty of celestial beings.