Keeping the faith

As my friend Teresa posted on her FB page: " There's so much going on in the news these days. It's almost scary in comic book epic proportions...."

One week ago, I was taking a walk among the cherry blossoms, getting my arms sunburned, when I received a phone call from my step mom:  my dad was in the hospital with 3 broken ribs and a punctured lung.  

Among the cherry blossoms, pre-phone call.

Respite for talking

As I sat below this tree, on a hard (and small) piece of wood, listening to my step mom describe my dad's condition of withering away and how she was losing her soul mate, I was overwhelmed with emotion for all that my dad and step mom were going through.  They have a love that has endured many struggles and challenges, along with much joy, for 35 years.  It's a true example of what it means to love someone with all your heart and soul, and when one person slowly slips away, it's heart-breaking.

After we finished the call, I sat for a while with the sun on my back and the blue water in front of me, and I couldn't help but feel blessed for all the time I've had with my dad.  From years of no contact in my adolescence to a strong commitment on both of our parts to re-forge a relationship, I am deeply grateful for the connection we have today.  There's nothing left unsaid between us.  We both know how much we mean to the other person.  That can't always be said about relationships.

So...with some reorganization of my life, and lots of help and encouragement from friends and family, I was on a plane Friday night to see my parents.  

The power of love is a miraculous thing.  Almost from the moment I arrived, my dad perked up, his appetite returned, and he's on the slow road to recovery.  He's out of the hospital, his condition is no longer life-threatening, but his life has changed.  I'm not sure that he realizes it entirely, but it has.

And so here I am, in my own stage of mid-life (and yes, with my birthday tomorrow, I suppose I can say--hopefully--that I'm in the middle of my life)...taking care of young adult children AND my aging parents.  It's a strange part of life to be in.  Definitely some un-chartered territory here.  But applying what I've learned thus far from my life, I'm know I need to be truly present in the moment, keep breathing, and remember that all things happen in their right time.

So with a week almost scary in comic book epic proportions (the Boston Marathon bombing, the fertilizer plant explosion, the Senate not passing the bill on background checks), and now...the death of my colleague and friend Paul, I'm having a hard time seeing the "right time" in all this...but I'm in doing my best to keep the faith.

A kaleidoscope for the Big Kids

I used to think that when you had little kids, it was so hard to protect them from the bad occurrences in the world.   But now that I have older kids, I think it was actually easier when they were younger.  

As a parent of young kids, I could always turn off the TV (like I did on 9/11 when we were in Cairo), hide the newspapers, or restrict internet viewing.  Of course, I didn't have any control over what happened at school, what other students said and what adults may have discussed in the hallways, ripe for "overhearing"....but in general, I had some control. 

Now that the kids are older, and (more or less) out of the house, I understand very acutely that I have no control to what they are exposed.  They are free to take in as much information about the world's events as they like, or shield themselves and live with little knowledge.  They have become their own filters of information, which allows them to experience the events of the world, just like "us adults," but with a less experienced frame of reference to process.

Such is the case with the Boston Marathon bombing.    

This terrible tragedy has made me think of many things.   One of which is that as a parent of "young adult children," what's my role in helping them cope?  I'm no longer the "filter of information" or the "shield of protection."  I'm not with them everyday to monitor their stress and responses and to seek appropriate help, if needed.  In a way, I've been replaced....by themselves.

But realistically speaking, isn't that the eventual goal of "launching" children? Having them take over our parental roles and do for themselves, right?  However, we cannot overlook that they still need us.  

Given that, I've concluded that my role is actually the same as it always has been, only with a different shape.  I'm still here to love them--not by restricting, but by being available--and to reassure them, that no matter what is going on in the world, they always have a safe place full of love to "come home."

It's like a twist of a kaleidoscopic.  All the components are the same, but the design is different.  Still beautiful, but different.