I'm in the last week before returning from sabbatical and have been visiting with friends, working in the garden, resting, spending time with my family. I've also done much reflection, both on life in general, but on the sabbatical in particular as well.
There was one event from this time that keeps coming back to me. I was hiking on Iona and was in an area with a herd of sheep. As I walked I heard this young lamb bleat for its mother. A second later, the mother responded. She was a long way away, but as I looked out over the meadow, I could see the little lamb running towards the sound. Then the little lamb stopped, bleated again, waited for the mother to respond and then took off running again towards the sound. Because they were quite a distance apart, this call and answer routine went on for a good five minutes. But I found it both intriguing and compelling. I couldn't stop watching and listening to this very normal, very beautiful drama playing out between this ovine mother and child.
It is a familiar situation with so many species of animals. Babies go exploring, trying the world out on their own. But eventually they become a little uneasy or a little hungry or a little tired, and then they need the reassurance of the parent that the parent is still there, still loving them, still available for them to come home to. Even now, with young adult children I see this play out with my own kids. Jonah is still in Europe, exploring with his friend from college. They have travelled from Norway through Portugal, Spain, France, Slovakia, Poland, Austria, Italy and more. Jonah is very independent. Most of the time he travels on his own or with his friend and seems very competent and confident in finding his own way. But every once in a while he reaches out. "Just checking in" he says. Usually he doesn't need anything, though he does drop hints about money running low (which I send over) or he mentions missing something (that I make sure I'll have on hand when he comes home in a couple weeks). He values his independence, but there is still that need for reassurance and safe connection as well.
Jonah might argue with my assessment. He might say he just values the relationship and that is why he calls. He might say he's calling to reassure me that he is okay. But this morning when he called, I still found myself remembering the sheep.
As a parent, I have found the independence of my children difficult at times. I have and continue to love being a mother. I enjoy hearing their stories, their thoughts, their feelings. At this point I learn from them and have at times asked them for information about new technology, new or slang terms, or about information specific to what they each are learning or have learned at school. I love spending time with each of them, and I love how specific the things I do with each are. With Jasmyn, we go to Heather Farms park to walk, we get sandwiches at Sweet Affair across from Heather Farms. If we have more time, we go down to Monterey together and have our routines there that include the aquarium, walks along the beach front, eating clam chowder in sour dough bowls and getting ice cream at Ghirardelli. We sing together in harmony in the car as we go to these places. And that is what Jasmyn and I do.
Jonah and I talk philosophy, politics, theology. I love these conversations with him and I always learn a great deal from him. We love to hike together, to travel together to new places. With Jasmyn it is the familiar, with Jonah it is almost always the unknown and unfamiliar.
Aislynn and I work puzzles together, including the ROKR puzzles that are permanent additions to our house.
While Jasmyn and I sing together, Aislynn and I dance together: putting in music and just moving to the beat. Aislynn has less intensity than the other two, so our relationship involves more teasing and playing. There's an easiness there that allows us to do simple things like go to the grocery store together to just enjoy each other's company.
But while we have grown into these ways of being together as adults, they are still also doing the age appropriate stepping into independence. While I am incredibly grateful that they still enjoy and seek out time with me, I miss them needing me as they used to. But the gift of the sheep Marco-Polo routine is the reminder that no matter how far they go, there will be times when they call my name just for that tiny reassurance that I am still here for them, something I will always and forever be.
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