There was a time when the idea of quiet brought welcome relief, respite from the busyness of life as a young mother of equally busy children. My household was loud and full and wonderful. But now, this is a quiet of a different breed. This quiet is a bit sad and lonely and painful. This quiet hurts.
With complete honesty, I want to share with you the pain of transition into this world of quiet. Oh yes, I know, it is all a part of the natural progression of things. The kids grow up, the kids move away, my role as chief cook and head of transportation has faded into the background. No more homeschool field days or early morning toddler cuddles. My car no longer holds camping chairs and water bottles ready for soccer season or scouting events. No, this is the new normal. The quiet.
Obviously, there is a beauty to this new season. I get to sleep…uninterrupted by midnight nightmares and sudden bouts of fever and tummy aches. The house is clean and the laundry is less. I get to watch the amazing children we were blessed to have for a season become equally amazing adults. It’s true. But passing years have important lessons to teach if we are listening: feelings are not wrong, they are legitimate and not to be ignored, but to be acknowledged and then prayerfully dealt with and carefully sewn into the fabric of our life as wisdom earned. It has been said that “Our problems are too big and our feelings are too strong for us to enter God’s presence with pretense.” And that is so.
Today I acknowledge the sadness that is the quiet of my life.
I believe the problem lies in one thing: purpose. I have simply lost sight of mine. What am I to do? Who am I without my job as a mom? Is that older woman in the mirror still capable of the great things I imagined as a girl? To be completely honest, I don’t know the answers. But I want to. I desperately do. And so I search. I pray. I wait.
Perhaps, like me, you are also in a season of quiet. I would love to tell you I have a handbook for the successful crossing of this tumultuous sea. I don’t. But I can share a little about what has helped and a lot about what has not.
As I always prefer to get the negative out of the way, let’s start there. I mentioned earlier the first and greatest mistake I made, don’t ignore or stuff the truth of your feelings. Are you feeling anxious? Say it. Is depression threatening to press every ounce of joy out of your existence? Admit it. And when you do, find a circle of friends who will let you be real. Counseling is an infinitely valuable resource. And friends, I’ll tell you this: we all need a listening ear, so never belittle yourself or anyone else who chooses to be brave and admit a need.
The natural move, but in the wrong direction, is to attempt to re-plant yourself in the season of yesterday. I want to be needed, I want to be valued, and I felt that most distinctly as a mom of younger children. But mom, they aren’t the same little children. Don’t attempt to continue your role as caregiver and problem solver. Believe me when I say, you aren’t doing yourself and especially your children a favor. It is, in fact, a huge disservice to hang on too tightly. Let them go. It’s hard. But that’s the job.
Anyway, the reality is that I was never as “in control” as I thought anyway. God has always held the reins. Me grabbing them has never solved a single problem. Caused them? Probably.
One last “what not to do” that I tried and failed at miserably is to attempt to fill that silence with noise. My personality is not one of ‘wait and see, it will all work out’; nope, I’m more of a ‘knock on every door, break in through the window if you must’ sort of gal. I want to fill…my time, my life, the quiet. I don’t like empty spaces. I want to be full. It’s easy to watch friends’ lives and believe the lie that their days are always content, their kids always successful, their smiles always genuine. And when I believe it, I try to fill up using their fuel. But apparently I’m some weird hybrid girl. I don’t know what kind of gas I need, but it isn’t theirs. God’s plan for me is uniquely my own. And for that plan, I must…gulp…wait. If I rush this season of quiet, I will miss the beauty that comes from trusting God’s timing.
Sometimes, the silence isn’t meant to be filled. It’s meant to be understood.
I hesitate to even tell you what has helped simply because what has worked for me may not work for you. Again, the road you walk may intersect with mine at times, but your twists and turns are unique to your path. So with a smidge of trepidation, I will share what I have found helpful in this struggle with a quiet season of change.
In a way, I must learn to say goodbye. My kids don’t need me to hold their hands. They don’t need me to tuck them in. But they do need my wisdom, my experience, my love. No one outgrows the need for love. And that young girl I still expect to find in the mirror is gone. She isn’t coming back. And that’s okay. The woman I am is smart. She’s experienced, she’s beautiful. Oh, there are wrinkles and gray hair, but this is a beauty that comes from walking through the fire and coming out on the other side. She’s still standing. And she’s smiling because she knows she is capable, she is strong, she is enough. That doesn’t mean I don’t miss that young girl. I lament the loss of a metabolism that allows midnight snacks and sweet tea on demand. I surely do wish my eyesight was perfect again, my frizzy gray hair smoothed with youth…yeah, I miss her. Acknowledging the fact that I feel deep sadness and loss at this loss is central to healing, to moving forward.
Then there are the changes that life kind of makes for you. I’ve learned the difference between acquaintances and friends. Honestly, this one has been really difficult to accept. I’ve clung tightly to those I thought were friends only to realize they are simply acquaintances, circumstantial and often temporary friends. Oh, I don’t mean they’ve done anything wrong, I simply categorized them incorrectly. You see, when my kids were small, we had so many social commitments that were directly linked to the kids. Pizza after soccer, camping with the scouts, children’s programs at church. Those folks were lots of fun, but I guess we didn’t have much holding us together when the calendar cleared. The memories are good, but that’s where they stay. Memories. Some people come and go, but some stay. Those are few and far between, and they are to be appreciated. Still, don’t be afraid to open your heart and your home to whoever wanders through your life. Maybe they will go, but then again, maybe they stay. Surround yourself with people of all ages and cultures. Give your time to help the younger generation grow, link arms with the women who are walking down the same roads, and learn from the wisdom of the aged ones walking ahead. Houses, jobs, stuff…all that goes away; people are the only eternity we get to touch here on this earth.
Keep growing. This is a big one. Growing old is inevitable, but I can get there in style! As long as I am able, I will continue to learn new information, think new thoughts, meet new people, see new places, and try new hobbies. There is no standing still. Either you’re growing, or you’re receding. I want to challenge my mind, so I listen to science, political, and psychology podcasts. I am learning Spanish and all about nutrition. I tried And find people who challenge you to be your best self. But don’t expect anyone to fulfill your every need. That’s just not possible. What I mean is this: my husband is awesome, and we enjoy some of the same activities, but not everything. For example, he doesn’t like to hike, so I found a friend who does. We have great fun. He doesn’t really like to travel as much as I do, but that’s okay. I have other friends who like to take girl trips with me!
If your bucket list is filled with ‘want to’s you never got to’, don’t blame anyone else. You have a choice. Maybe you need to adjust your expectations, but I firmly believe creating and fulfilling goals is a must for a purposeful life. I tried rock climbing. It was terrifying but exhilarating, and I loved it! Parasailing on the other hand will be a one time joy ride. But I’m glad I shared that day with my daughter, even if I was scared the sharks were going to bite my toes when we dipped through the ocean waves.
Give it a go! It’s better to try and fail than to always wonder what could have been.
So there it is, acknowledge your feelings. Learn who this new version of you really is, and learn to love her. Surround yourself with people. Love them. Let them love you. Grow and change. Don’t be afraid. As long as you have breath, God has work for you to do. So in this season of quiet, let Him show you what that work is to be. Be still, see what is in front of you and do that. One step, one moment at a time, you will find the purpose and plan. Be patient (not my strong suit, I’ll tell you), but I know the wait will be worth it. God still has a good plan for me and for you, my sister. You matter. I matter. God isn’t done with us yet. There’s work to be done.
As the leaves begin to change to beautiful and vibrant shades of red, yellow, and orange, I reflect on the truth that my life is much like those leaves. I’m clinging to the tree and know the journey has brought the life changing brilliance of my autumn. It’s time to let go of summer. But I’ve always loved fall so I can appreciate the beauty of newness as I wait in the quiet for the sure renewal of God’s merciful hand. And maybe, just maybe,I will learn the art of gentle acceptance in these constantly changing days ahead. For one day, the autumn leaves must release their hold and allow the winter winds to brush them to the waiting earth to rest. And only then, in the renewing of Heaven’s eternal spring, will my purpose be fully known.