Not Alone

I spent yesterday afternoon melting in the May summer heat and humidity of an east Tennessee Saturday under the banner of balloons proclaiming the colors of my friend’s seventeen-year-old daughter’s future alma mater.  She had graduated high school the night before and is preparing to embark on her first solo adventure, college.  But as I watched her graciously accept gifts, banter with her boyfriend, chase my nieces with bubbles and take selfies with my daughter and all her friends, I let it hit me that she is grown.  That my own daughter is only one year behind.  That I am SO PROUD of them both!  And that there is still so much that I haven’t said. So much wisdom that I meant to impart and didn’t have  the time or the right moment. 

And then she reads my handwritten letter, pulled from a gift bag amid her pile.  She blinks back a tear, tells me she loves me, and hands it to her mother and grandmother to read.  I hug her, and she knows.  She knows that I am a phone call away.  She is not mine, but I was blessed to be part of the garden she grew up in.  She had parents who loved her and aunts and grandparents, but I was there too.  Just as her mother was there for my daughter and she always will be. 

As a single mother of two children who are nearly grown, too many times I have felt the anxiety and pressure of getting it all right. Coaching at the right moment. I want to go back and do everything  all over again, but this time say all the right things.  I worry that I am out of time.  It’s too late. I am too late.

But the truth is, it was never all up to me.  I was never alone and their character and morals and growth and gifts were nurtured by a host of loving women who banded together to take part in the development of one another’s children.  We didn’t discuss it.  There was no schedule of days on duty or assignments for us to fulfill in one another’s lives.  We were just there, showing up for every crisis, every birthday, every memory making moment.  We were there for sleepless nights and the first sleepovers.  We bandaged scratched knees and scrubbed crayon off walls.  We held the jar of fireflies and the marshmallow sticks. We broke up the fights and started water gun wars.  We each planted seeds.  We each had a moment to teach a life lesson and to help these beautiful, wild, impressionable kids grow into the confident, courageous, and faith filled young adults that they are today.  Ready for the world.  Ready for adventure.  It wasn’t all up to me.  We did it together. 

I am so grateful for the women who have walked through motherhood with me and allowed me the opportunity to love their sons and daughters as my own.  Women I can call for parenting advice and receive no judgement.  Women who I trust to have conversations with them that they just can’t have with their mom.  You are here for a reason. You have taken part in my life’s most important mission, raising my children.  I chose each of you as my friend because something in your heart was good for the growth of mine.  And now I can see a piece of you woven into the spirit of my children.  I didn’t know when they were young that this would be a side effect of my friendship choices, but what a happy accident!  I love every one of you and respect each of you for your own strengths.  Happy Mother’s Day to all of the women that I am blessed to call friends and who took on the role of family, loving my children alongside theirs.  I can’t thank you enough for digging in and doing life with me.