A season of winter

Dear children,
I love and adore you with all my heart. Your are all growing and changing in so many ways. There seems to be a lot of hardships these days. Each one of you is being tested. We all are. Things are changing and moving out of your control. Life is shifting. And this is hard.

You are struggling to accept change, yours and others around you. Change is all around you. The seasons change. Spring becomes summer becomes fall becomes winter becomes spring again. While it seems a never ending cycle, with each new season there is growth abounding often unseen. What looks to be dormant or dead is changing or growing on the inside. Things are happening that the human eye can not see. In the winter when the trees are bare and fruitless they are not dead or dying, they are preparing for what is to come. They have shed their old leaves to prepare for the growth ahead. The tree tops grow taller. The branches grow longer in preparation for them to sprout new twigs and leaves. They shed their clothes because they no longer fit. They prepare themselves for what is to come. They make way for the beautiful garments that will clothe them in the spring. The buds burst forth and open with the beauty. They stand tall with an element of pride for the long hard work they have done. A short, but well deserved rest before they must do it again. The cycle repeats, but with each cycle they grow taller, stronger, fuller, more beautiful than the year before.

The trees offer you beauty for your eyes to behold in the spring. They offer you shade from the heat of the summer sun. In the cooler days of autumn they dance with you in the breeze and as they laugh with you in those golden days their wisdom grows quiet, but strong. It is time to prepare. They know it is almost time to sleep. They need rest for the work that is coming. They know the time of outward beauty must soon bow in resignation to the inward preparation of what is to come. The trees suffer through the cold days with strength of knowledge that soon the work will be done and joy will be shown again.

I am not going to tell you that each of you is like a tree growing through the seasons of life. You are not trees. You are human beings. You are the children God loaned me. God has given me a mighty, mighty task. I feel daily I have failed before Him; that the task is too great. So many days lately I have felt a failure to you and to God. I begin to question my ability as a mother and my worth as a human being. I cry out to God to give me strength, to give me the right words, to guide my actions when I feel weak. So many days lately, it seems, that I am nothing more than a referee and a maid. The parts of being a mother I so enjoy seem to be gone and lost. Where is the joy? Where is the love? Where have the fun times gone? I must do hard things.

Then God whispers, “This is a season of winter, a time of quiet, cold struggles.” You are all going through your own version of winter. I see siblings who are having a hard time accepting that younger siblings are growing up, too. It’s time to allow some of those younger ones to take the next step. It is time to make room. There are two lessons here: the first is that simple lesson of sharing. It is time to move over and make room for another little twig to join the branch.¹ Remember, you were once that age and learning those things for the first time, too. Remember how excited and proud you were when you mastered a task. While you have been doing it longer and have learned to do it better that is only because you have had more practice. You have had more time. This leads to the second lesson. It is time for you not only to move over and make room, it is time for you to take the next step yourself. It is time for you to use your knowledge and your hard work to master a new skill and help those who are just learning how. Don’t make room by moving over, make room by stepping up. Climb higher, to the next branch. You have new skills of your own to learn and you now have the responsibility of helping those smaller, younger, and less skilled than you. As you accept new responsibility in life you will gain new privileges as well. Responsibility and privilege go hand in hand. One does not exist without the other. Do hard things.

Sometimes I see the struggles clearly. It seems obvious there is a reach for more independence, struggle to put up with those that want to help and who need help. It is clear, at times, you do not want to share whether it is things like books or toys or experiences like responsibility and privilege. Usually it is the privilege you have the hardest time sharing; the deeper struggles of sharing life and change and accepting new responsibilities are obvious. Your behavior makes it clear. When we call you on it, acknowledge it, accept it, make it right, and move on. Many times, the hardest things are the right things. Do hard things.

What is not always obvious is the struggle inside. That bit of preparation going on for the next season of life. Your body is working hard. You are each getting taller and stronger. Your thoughts and feelings are becoming more and more complicated. Your work and responsibility is to think first and act second. To learn your own thoughts and your heart and control them and teach yourself. I can give you the tools as I have and will continue to do. I can show you how to use those tools as I have and will continue to do. But you must choose to use those tools.

You each hold a unique place in this family.

You have each been given the ability to grow and learn and share and teach.

Only one of you will be the oldest child.

Each of you has held the position of youngest child, only one of you will remain the baby of the family.

Three of you can say you each have two sisters and three brothers, share this and take joy in this; it is commonality; embrace this (even when your hormones tell you flee and run far)! Fight the flight and find strength in your love.

Three of you can say you each have two brothers and three sisters, like your sisters, you should share this and take joy in it and build strong bonds through your brotherhood.

Five of you can say you have a sibling with special needs. This can, and at times does, seem like a burden. You each know what a blessing it is. God has chosen each of you to be a sibling to a child that needs more love and patience physically shown to her than what we would call “the norm”. God has chosen you to be blessed by the struggles, yes blessed by the struggles, and joys this brings to our family. You have a rather unique experience in this. Grasp it tightly and don’t let go. These are lessons that will challenge you and grow your heart like nothing else can because no amount of reading or listening to another’s words will teach you what this life can. Learn to look at life with the pure, un-adulterated love that she does.

Only one of you is my oldest daughter; only one of you is my oldest son.
Likewise, only one of you is my youngest daughter and only one of you is my youngest son.
Two of you must “suffer” the middle child syndrome of being my middle daughter and my middle son. Turn this around and see it as the blessing it is: each of you has the pleasure of having an older sister/brother to help you and teach you what they have learned in life to make things easier for you; each of you has the responsibility of having a younger sister/brother to help and teach what you have learned.

I could go on and on listing little things about the individual positions you each have in this family, but I will not. This is something you need to learn to see for yourselves. You need to learn to find joy in the journey God has written for you. Sometimes this is hard. Do the hard things.

I can not always give you each what I wish I could give you. I can not hand you the things your friends have. I know that it seems like I am always saying no. You are tired of hearing no. I understand that more than you will ever know. I tire of saying no. I will most likely never be able to buy you each a car (or a horse, Little Missies). So, No! you will not be getting a Jeep when you get your license even if your father promised you one when you were five. I have a hard time as it is scraping and saving for your birthday and Christmas presents. I can’t give you those occasional little games or CDs or movies anymore. Our once a year movie outings are going by the way side. The games and CDs simply add up to more than we can handle. I can not even give you an allowance so you can save for all these things you desire, you wish for, you covet, and crave, these things for which you sometimes act you are entitled to have. Oh the wonder of it when I can give you something special and the joy you show in receiving!

I can give you a roof over your head. I can clothe you and feed you. I can buy the gas to get you to the functions you desire to attend. I’ll be honest, sometimes even those things are so hard to do that you do not know how much of a gift they are. But I will do what needs to be done to do the hard things. What I can give you without question and completely free, depending on nothing or anyone else, is love. This family. It is yours. Forever. For always. It seems small and trite to say sometimes, but I can give you hugs no matter how old you get. I can kiss your bo-bos and wipe your tears. I can hold your hand and offer you support. I can let go even if I don’t want to do so. My home will always be yours. You are my child. I can promise you that my love is not a love that needs to be earned. My love is yours. Take it.

I, too, have growing pains. I see you are ready to take those next steps and I have to let you do it. I see that you are ready for me to let go of your hand so you can take that step by yourself. It is a wonderful thing to see you each gain the independence you work so hard to have, but it is so stabbingly painful at times to let go and let you do it. It is a hard thing. I find it painful to see you go through a quiet, cold painful winter of growth. I hold tight to my own heart, reminding myself to breathe as you stumble and fall and get back up, and to God’s promises, and I pray hard that the winter inside you will grow you into a season of beauty and joy in which you can stand tall and strong with new gained wisdom and strength ready and clothed for what is to come.

Then I see you do hard things with grace and beauty. My heart smiles. It is spring again.

With all my love,
Mama