Out and About

The girls, that is.

My oldest needed to finish up some paperwork at an embassy for her student visa, so she left with my husband and her two next eldest sisters for a day trip to Washington, D.C. this morning. My husband, of course, will end up at his place of work after aforementioned officialdom is satisfied, while the other three will end up who knows where. Sounds a little bit scary, doesn't it?

That's a good thing.

I learned a number of years ago how important it is to let the proverbial apron strings get a smidgeon longer whenever the appropriate opportunity arose. The trick was to listen to my own sense of reason. My visceral reaction is always, "But, wait! She's too young to do (fill in blank here) all by herself!" In reality, most of the time, "she" (whichever one she was) was not truly "all by herself," and if I scratched just a little bit beneath the surface of what I was think-feeling, I could easily identify what I can only say in the broadest terms was my own discomfort at letting go.

I was the one feeling the separation anxiety, the irrational fear, the outsized sense of my own power. I feared that if I let her out of my sight, something terrible would happen. Did I really have the power to stop something terrible from happening, even under the safest of situations by merely willing it to be? Ultimately—and honestly—no. Was there some magical power surrounding me that prevented anyone from getting hurt while in my presence and mine alone? Huh. As if. Had evil and misfortune so thoroughly pervaded the area outside my safe perimeter that the least little toe dipping into that dark unknown would instantaneously be mangled and obliterated beyond the sphere of all that lives? Mmm. Probably not.

In the angel/devil debate going on in the shoulder area of my consciousness, the devil (not mine, thank you very much) always points me in the direction of irrational and unexamined fears. Always. Fortunately for all involved, however, my angel (yes, mine, thank you very much), a much more powerful and inviting influence, always asks me questions designed to flesh out the reality of the situation, especially the ultimate question, "What's the worst case scenario?" Often, even the worst case is not truly all that bad. But even when it is, the next question is, "And what is the likelihood that this worst case scenario will come to pass?" The usual answer generally is, "Not very likely."

The devil in this scene would have me strangle my relationships with my own children and prevent the growth of each child toward mature adulthood, the person she was meant to be. That can't be good.

My angel, on the other hand—sorry, I meant shoulder—would help me to be my own best self. My angel would help me to be a braver, stronger, more courageous person. Even if I were not a Christian, believing in God and his infinite goodness, mercy and wisdom, I would fare better still—as would my children—if I believe that like attracts like, positive thinking leads to positive results. If I think only the worst, then my mind is already halfway there and it can't be long before the results follow.

"As a man thinketh, so is he . . . " Proverbs 23:7

To put it all together, I have had the great blessing of watching my children grow over the years, even as they, in their mortal vulnerability, have helped me to grow as their equally mortal parent and guide. It's been a two-way street. With adequate preparation, watchful prayer, and faith in the good, I have been able to let them go, little steps at a time, and have seen the fruit of this growth in all of us.

Today, my not-yet-ten-year-old is on an adventure with her older sisters. They are riding the metro, walking the city streets, eating, just the three of them, in a diner or burger joint somewhere, and all this in between and in search of a museum, a gallery, an import shop, an ethnic grocery, skyscrapers, or maybe just cloud-viewing in a city park.

Today, they are all growing together, the two eldest taking on the responsibility of guiding the youngest of them, and the youngest stepping up to enjoy the more grown-up activity of being with her sisters, just being out and about.

In the Garden

All righty, then . . .

We've been in the garden many evenings and some weekend days of late, weeding and tilling the soil where we hope soon to see thriving vegetation of the edible and fragrant varieties. After a two-year wait on a list somewhere, we were finally given the green light to choose a plot at our nearest local community garden. We were thrilled, though the weather was so wet for so long that it took us some time to get around to weeding and preparing the soil for planting. We still haven't planted anything, though that should change any day now, and definitely before next week's multi-day rain sets in.

We usually take our nine and five-year-old daughters with us to get them outside in the fresh air, though being true children of the technological age, I must confess, they are often at a loss as to what to do with themselves once they are there. We are attempting to retrain their brains, to have them fall deeply into their own imaginations for entertainment, and it is sometimes rough going.

Living in a townhouse makes it challenging to get the girls outside for free play. There are cars parked in what would otherwise be a front yard, a mere walk-in closet of a backyard, bounded at the back by a six-foot high privacy fence which prevents any truly satisfactory view of the narrow common area between the rows of properties. Throwing the kids outside to play is not such an appealing option. The nine-year-old learned to ride her bicycle on a grassy hill behind the house for lack of a cul-de-sac.

I'm whining, I know. But we may have found a way around that particular challenge. The garden plot.

We've met a few of our gardening neighbors who are very friendly and helpful, and we appear to have chosen a lot that is very near the park concert venue, so that in the summer, on Thursday evenings, we will have backdoor passes to all the shows that happen through. Music, picnic, playing, blankets, gardening—sounds idyllic. I won't take that statement to the bank yet, but I am at least hopeful that our summer will be filled with music, fresh air, imagination, and, if we're lucky and industrious, a bountiful harvest from our garden. Cheers.