In April, the wisteria that once draped my greenhouse in gorgeous blooms has begun to fade, but my heirloom roses still faithfully display their beauty. As I drive through town, I find my eyes drawn not only to the lovely, familiar sunset, but also to the fields of colorful wildflowers, quietly whispering the promise of new hope.
LIVING IDEAS
“…when we step beyond the bright, frenzied circles of our distraction into the dark, waiting space of quiet, we end up meeting… our own self, stripped, our need and fear in a raw welter upon our bare skin. Sometimes in quiet, the chill nakedness of our discontent and shame, our fear and desire, becomes plain to us in a way that leaves us almost breathless with dismay. There’s a real sense in which the choice to be silence ushers us into the presence of all the things noise obscures for us most of the time: the inescapable nature of our fragility, the dreams we have lost, the hovering possibility of grief, our pervasive failure. To be quiet can feel like stepping into the presence of death.”
— Sarah Clarkson, Reclaiming Quiet, p.33
At the end of our busy Easter week, my heart longed for a quiet space away from all the noise and distraction. My mind drifted back to the lonesome island in the middle of Everglades National Park we visited last summer, a lovely place surrounded by peaceful and crystal-clear water. So I stepped out for a prayer walk in our neighborhood, trusting that fresh air and stillness would bring renewal. I love this quiet place, with no one to speak to me, only my favorite trees and the gentle chorus of chirping birds waiting to greet me.
In the silence, I met with my insecurities, fragility, failures, and even grief. I needed this quietness, to ponder on the questions that have been crowding my mind and heart lately. By the end of the walk, I didn’t have answers to everything. But I began to see where my despair had taken root, in my unknown fear of whatever is going on in my teen’s life, and in my struggle to fully trust God with every detail of this season. Yet in stepping into the rare space of quiet, I found something unexpected: a living hope and a renewed faith.
SACRED CALLING
“There are no perfect children or perfect parents. There is only the invitation to embrace a life of walking with open hands and a willingness to grow a bit more every day, in spite of setbacks.”
— Sally Clarkson, Uniquely You
I came across this quote from Sally’s Instagram (wondering why I missed the release of her latest book!) at a time when I most needed to hear from her gentle wisdom.
As mothers, we are often gifted with an instinct to know and feel when things are not going well. When my child was younger, clarity and confirmation came very quickly. But the teen years are especially difficult for me, and I find myself mothering so imperfectly. As I spend more time observing and praying, waiting, sometimes for months, for my teen to finally open up and pour her heart to me. Often in the quiet hours of the night, when my weary body craves for rest, I struggle to stay awake while doing my best to offer my listening ears and heartfelt wisdom.
In this brief experience of mothering my first teen, I have come to realize that each teenager is unique, and none is perfect. I find peace in knowing that my role is no longer to intervene or control, but to make myself available, offering a willing invitation to listen, to encourage, and with open hands, hoping that my wisdom from life experiences will be well received.
Then I go back to my posture of observing, praying, and waiting, releasing my teen to grow and to be led by the Spirit, knowing that there will be setbacks again. And I hold on to this quiet hope: no matter what her future will hold, she will come back to the safety and comfort of my embrace once more.
BEAUTY SENSE
For years I have witnessed how my daughter’s self-education has shaped her personhood and fueled her dream of becoming a writer. I treasure her most recent poem, her beautiful meditation that intertwines the romantic, divine love with the imperfect, and often painful, love in the human world:
Sonnet to a Rose
by Emilie Au
O Rose, thou incarnate of love divine
How soft and sweet thy silken folds doth lie!
What wondrous beauty and what grace are thine
Within thy crimson cup of charm belie.
As like a gift of gods from olden times
A long-lost song bestowed in bygone days
The music of the spheres in heaven’s chimes
Aphrodite’s own dear lovely form portrays.
Until the heart that gently falls below
From gaudy bud to thorns beneath the night
A bloom full blown on fancies’ hidden woe
Unfurl to fade in truth’s unchanging light.
A rose so rare that came from Cupid’s bow
Amongst the soil of mortal men doth sow.
As my children step into different levels of autonomy and independence, it feels both unfamiliar and deeply fulfilling to experience this quiet unfolding of a new season. Yet, I am mindful not rush this precious time especially with my teen, sitting beside her during those sleepless nights, as I witness her personhood and character blossom in their own time.
Love,
Teresa
P.S. With only a few weeks left in this school year, I am inspired by the CMEC’s #thecmecfinishingstrong challenge and started a “Let’s Finish Strong” series on my instagram to encourage other homeschool moms (and myself) what ought to be accomplished in the weeks ahead, so that each of my children may be ready to step forward after the summer.
P.P.S. In the meantime, with my rekindled passion in photography, I also started a new Instagram account to document my Creator’s bountiful love and His beautiful handiwork unfolding in our heirloom garden. I hope you will check this out!
