He's Leaving the Nest

Recently, I’ve been watching Mothers at the cusp of their children’s transitions.  I used to think that when kids left home for the first time or got married or had babies of their own or started kindergarten that their Mothers were just unadulteratedly happy.  “Yay!  My children are growing up!  They are moving onto bigger and better things!”  But now I see that for many Mothers, these transitions are filled with both joy and pain.  All beginnings are planted with the seeds of a death--the emphatic end of something that was precious during its time, and will never be again.

My oldest son, Brendan, is leaving home to be a missionary halfway across the world in a matter of weeks.  He will be able to write weekly emails, and call a few times a year.  He will be gone for two years.  I have no doubt that he will do a great job, and that the people he meets and the experiences he has will impact his life forever.  There is nothing else I would rather have him do at this point in his life.

But this parting is at best bittersweet.  My heart is simultaneously bursting with pride and breaking in two—and that is an emotion I didn’t know was possible.  I wouldn’t want Brendan to stay home just so I don’t have to miss him.  I wouldn’t want him to stall out in terms of experience and knowledge, just so I don’t have to worry.  That would be a supreme act of selfishness.  And a little creepy, to be honest.  But to say that I don’t feel raw and pained at the thought of him leaving would be a lie.

It is comforting to me that he will be doing something that will help him both grow and help others.  If I didn’t feel like he was doing something worthwhile, I wouldn’t be trying so hard to figure out how to let him go without burdening him too much with my grief. 

I am just going to miss him.  I am going to miss him padding down the stairs to get a bowl of cereal.  I am going to miss hearing him sing and play guitar all the time.  I am going to miss the way he manages to be both kind and firm with his younger siblings, who all adore him.  I am going to miss laughing at stupid videos on the Internet with him.  I am going to miss giving him hugs that still feel a little strange now that he is taller than me.

As the time comes closer for him to leave, I’ve noticed that he seems to hug me more, and to linger as he tells me about his day.  I wonder if he is drawing closer for him—or for me.  That wouldn’t surprise me.  He is a truly good person.  Not perfect, but I trust the intentions of his heart maybe more than anyone else’s on earth—including my own.  I am having a hard time saying goodbye. 

I haven’t always been a psycho with separation anxiety.  I remember the day that I left for college for the first time.  I had happily spent the last few precious days before I left seeing friends and tying up loose ends.  I gave my Mom a hug after the car was packed. She told me to have a great time, as she hugged me longer than normal.  As I drove away with my Dad, I looked back and saw her wipe her eyes as she watched the car leave.

I wasn’t a completely heartless kid.  I would venture to say (and I can produce witnesses to corroborate) that I was a kind and sensitive 18-year-old who loved my family.  I was sad to leave home—to leave my parents and my siblings.  I knew that things would never be the same again.  But on the other hand, things would never be the same again.  I was headed towards adventure and possibilities.  I was headed towards my life—as I chose to make it.  And that was exciting.  All in all, as a fairly well adjusted kid, I would have to say the emotions of excitement and anticipation overrode any sadness I felt.

Several years passed and I became a mother myself.  When Brendan was a little boy and we lived in Provo, I would occasionally happen to drive by the Missionary Training Center on a Wednesday.  That’s the day when new missionaries arrive to be trained before flying off to places all over the world.  I would stop at the stoplight and see the parents and their freshly scrubbed and clipped sons walking across the crosswalk with luggage in tow.  I would look at the Mothers’ faces, about to say goodbye to their child for two years.  Then I would look in the rear view mirror at my sweet boy buckled in his car seat and get teary, thinking about him leaving someday to go to an unknown place to do some good in the world.

I wish I could go back to that long-ago day when I left home and tell my Mom how much she meant to me in that moment.  That all the things she had sacrificed, all the worry she had instead channeled into love and care was going to be worth it.  That I would make her proud.  That the pain of saying goodbye would be eclipsed by the good I would do.  That other things would fill her heart so it didn’t feel so empty.

 

Maybe it is always easier to go than to be left behind.  I am sure that Brendan is feeling mostly anticipation and excitement.  Or at least, I hope he is.  It is maybe not fair to burden our children with just how much we love them, with how much our happiness is entwined in theirs.  There is a weight inherent in that, and it is easier to travel light when you leave home for the first time.

In the meantime, I am trying to let out my sadness slowly, like releasing air after taking a deep, deep breath.  I am trying to anticipate the good that will come from this step in his life.  I am sure that there will be many joys in hearing about his adventures.  I am sure that like many hurts, mine will subdue and change into wisdom and compassion for others in a similar place.  It will help me more fully appreciate the preciousness of the time I have left with my younger children.  It will help me to have more faith that subsequent goodbyes with the rest of my children will be less wrenching.  I will know that I will be okay, and that much of what changes will be replacing something beautiful with something else that is equally beautiful.

But for now, I am a little sad.

Smith Family European Vacation--Days 9-13: Paris!

Well, things got busy that last week in Paris.  The weather was beautiful--low 70's and sunny.  Perfect.  Our apartment was so centrally located that we could easily go somewhere during the day, come home for dinner, then pop out again to do something else.  Anyway, less time for sitting around blogging.  That's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it.

Monday

The main items of business on Monday were to visit the Sacre Couer, visit the Clicancourt flea market and a date for Aaron and me.



We managed two out of three.  I erroneously thought it would be really easy to find the market.  We walked in the direction we thought it was, but nothing was obvious.  By the time we found a Wifi connection and looked things up, I realized that it was going to be quite a hike.  By that time, the thought of dragging the little kids through a sea of don't touch that, stay close to me, please! where in the heck is Sawyer? had kind of lost its appeal.  And I didn't really mind.  I think it is good to leave something special for next time, trusting that I will have the opportunity again, rather than grimly feeling like I have to do everything out of some sense of desperation.

The Sacre Couer is a beautiful church on the top of a tall hill, in the Montmartre district in Paris.  It was lovely, only slightly marred by some really aggressive sales people on the steps, and a long stretch of steps that had obviously been used repeatedly as a toilet.  Ick.  The kids loved it because there is a fun playground and a carousel at the base of the hill.  The kids also had fun buying all sorts of cheap-o trinkets for their friends in the small road between the Metro stop and the base of the hill up to the church.  We had a picnic lunch, and the sun was out, which warmed us up and made the whole day feel pretty fabulous.

We got home and got the kids settled for a little while.  Brendan and Sophie and I went grocery shopping, using the apartment's little old lady shopping trolley thing-y.

 At about 7, Aaron and I headed out to a Lebanese restaurant that he had looked up that was supposed to be really, really good.  We were hoping for something that at least reminded us of our beloved Ishbilia in London.  We wrote down the intersection for the restaurant and got on the Metro.  When we came to the intersection, we saw the restaurant across the street.  When we crossed the street, we realized there were actually two restaurants called the same thing, side-by-side.  One was a bar-style restaurant that sold mezze-type fare.  The other one was a casual grill-style restaurant.  We had thought we were going to a nicer sort of place, but decided to roll with it and sat down and gave our order.  It was then that Aaron looked out across the intersection and saw another restaurant, with the same name, that clearly looked like a fine-dining place.  Doh!  We opted to stay where we were, but were bummed that we'd missed the nicer place.  We looked through the fine-dining restaurant's window on our way back to the Metro like sad little urchins.  We missed out, no doubt about it. Who puts three restaurants on the same corner and names them the same name?  And how in the world did we walk right by the other restaurant and not notice it?  

C'est la vie.

Tuesday

Tuesday morning was heralded by Lucy throwing up a few times.  We decided that it wasn't worth taking a potential thrower-upper into public, so Damon and I stayed home with her while Aaron took the rest of the kids to the Musse d'Orsay and to a street called Rue Clair.  Aaron wasn't amazingly impressed with Rue Clair, but he and Brendan loved the Musse d'Orsay.  That's another one for my "next trip" list.

After her, ahem, outbursts in the morning, Lucy got much more chipper.  She ate and drank normally for the rest of the day.  That night, we headed to the Champs Elysses and did some more shopping at H&M.

Wednesday

Wednesday morning we got up fairly early and went to Versailles.  We'd never made it there in previous trips, and after seeing Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette (which I realize is not exactly period-accurate, but visually beautiful), I was keen to see the palace.  It did not disappoint.  I just had no idea how massive, or how crazily ornate it was (Marie Antoinette's bedroom?  Hello!?!).  It helped me understand how bitter I would feel if I were a French commoner starving outside the gates of Versailles.  Viva la Revolution!

We also took some fun family pictures and had fun cavorting on the grounds of Versailles in our swanky new French clothes.  When in France...

After we got home and got the kids situated, Aaron, Brendan and I went to the Louvre since it closes late on Wednesdays.  We barely scratched the surface there, and saw some funny (monkeys painting pictures?) and some breathtakingly beautiful (The use of light in some of the paintings! Botticelli's frescoes!) art.  We also wondered why all the wardrobe malfunctions?  I mean nudes, I understand.  I grew up going to art museums with my mom, and nudes don't make me one bit uncomfortable.  However, I had never noticed how many paintings at the Louvre depicted women where just half the bodice of their dress was pulled down.  Janet Jackson, watch out! :)  I wondered if it was symbolic of motherhood (there were quite a few similar paintings with a baby nursing or about to nurse where the "wardrobe malfunction" made sense).  At any rate, I found it kind of distracting--much more distracting than full-on nudes.  Overall, though, I found it so inspirational to see all the amazing things people have created throughout the ages, and then to think that God is even greater than all that.  I'm so grateful to live in such a lovely world and for my place in it.

Afterward, we went to a cafe nearby and had a delicious dinner.  Beef Bourguignon for me....mmmmmmmn.

Thursday





On Thursday, we just took it fairly easy.  Got up lazily late, and headed with picnic lunch to Luxembourg Gardens.  Luxembourg Gardens used to be only open to nobility until after the revolution.  It is still a very genteel sort of park.  We had to pay to get into the playground, but it was worth it.  My kids loved the zip line, and all the merry-go-rounds there.  We enjoyed just lazing in the sun, and watching all the diverse people at the park.

Afterwards, we went to an amazing bakery on the way back to the Metro stop.  I had the very best raspberry tart ever, and everyone else had something they loved just as much.  A perfect end to a beautiful outing.

After we got back from Luxembourg gardens, we spent the rest of the night relaxing, packing and tidying up our apartment.

Friday

We checked out of our apartment at 10 a.m.  My highlight for the morning was that the parking garage attendant totally hit on me when I went to pick up our van.  He said "Tres Belle!" and pointed to me.  I said "Merci," then hurriedly walked back to our van and started to drive out.  He motioned for me to stop, looked at my ticket and asked hopefully if I was coming back.  I said no, and got the heck out of there.  I mean, I know I'm irresistible and all, but that was a little creepy.  Something tells me that when you are trying to pick someone up in a parking garage, you aren't exactly looking for true love.  I got great mileage out of it for the rest of the day, though.  Anytime Aaron and I were deciding something, I would say something like, "You'd better let me have my way--otherwise I'll go find parking attendant man!"  I'm so hilarious...

Anyway, we drove back to Frankfurt.  On the way, we stopped in Luxembourg.  We wanted to check it out.  Amazon's European Headquarters are in Luxembourg, and we'd totally be up for living there if the right opportunity came along.  We found this awesome park in the middle of the city, and I've gotta say that the park bathrooms were some of the nicest public bathrooms I've ever seen.  The kids and I are sold!

We also drove through Trier, Germany, which is a lovely city on a river.

The other exciting thing about the drive is that we filmed the kids doing an acoustic "goat" version of Taylor Swift's "I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In."  I only got to tape about half of it because Aaron's phone ran out of memory.  Nevertheless, they are so funny.

And really, being with my crazy, exasperating, amazing family is what this trip was all about for me.  I loved seeing all the sights, but it was special because I was with the people I love the most in all the world for a brief moment in time.  I feel very, very grateful.