My View From the Sidelines

I’ve been a mother for 32 years. Sometimes that’s hard to believe. Other times I can’t remember ever not being a mother. I’m blessed to have three very remarkable daughters, women now. I am also blessed to have four very remarkable granddaughters, my “little” girls. These little lives are a reflection of their mothers and living reminders of the joys and challenges of my years as a young mother. I watch my daughters mothering their girls. I look to see if I can catch my reflection in them as they attend to the needs of their children.

Sometimes I do see myself as they care for their “babies”. It delights me when I see myself in them, as they smile with pride at a daughter’s new accomplishment, lovingly teach and correct one testing the boundaries, or when they are filling backpacks with books and tummies with breakfast before school. Those are joyful reflections.

There are, however, times when I see a different reflection. Those times when, thinking no one is looking, concern and uncertainty cross their faces as they watch one of their sweet little ones at play. The moments when their mother’s intuition is fully awakened and they know their daughter needs their help to cross some new hurdle. I remember those intuitive moments, truly moments that matter, and I want to both take the burden from them and leave them to bear it themselves. On the one hand, having experience in leaping hurdles with them in years past gives me an edge. But on the other hand, it is now their turn, with God's help, to see their little ones safely to the other side, and I’m not as spry as I used to be.

NOT leaping doesn’t keep me from offering advice on HOW to leap. I’m blessed, most of the time my sideline coaching is welcome and they recognize experience does count for something. Sometimes they decide to try a different approach while I hover and pace and watch, praying they bring their little ones over and through unscathed. When they come through with flying colors I’m delighted and reminded there is more than one way to skin a cat (or clear a hurdle). When their different approach sometimes fails and following the well-worn path of experience would have been less painful, they are reminded, that at least sometimes, mother still knows best.

Sitting on the sidelines doesn’t come easily for me, but I think I’m starting to get comfortable off the field. I still pace and fret and shout instructions. I still jump up and down and enjoy cheering my daughters on through these years of young motherhood. I still love celebrating the victories, big and small. However, more importantly, when the challenges seem impossible and victory seems a long way off, I want them to know, in the end, if they will just keep running alongside those precious daughters, it will be okay. Just like they did, the next generation will all make it across the finish line in fine form.

God willing, I’ll be there when my daughters and granddaughters link arms for their victory laps; joyful reflections indeed.