Wednesday, February 27, 2008

I Hope the Ache Lessons

From May 17, 2007

"I hope the ache lessons."

My oldest child moved out, off to begin her independent life in the adult world. I'm a blogger, so I blogged about it. I blogged about how it is an almost physical ache, having your child leave home. A very kind lady commented on the blog with the statement, "I hope the ache lessons." Wow. You could have knocked me over with a feather. Yes, I know she meant "lessens" as in "becomes less than it is" and that this was just an unintentional typo, but this typo holds more profound meaning for me than any other words of mom-like encouragement and empathy could.

"I hope the ache lessons."

That simple statement jostled me out of my stagnation and grief over losing my daughter. I had been feeling very sorry for myself over it. Then, with this little comment, I felt smacked between the eyes with the realization of my unreasonable reaction to it. I didn't lose my daughter - she just moved. She is proving with each day she lives on her own that she really can survive without me. And this is a good thing. She has the tools to survive on her own and to learn her own life-lessons now. I have learned to trust that she will make those choices that are right for her, that she will learn the lessons she needs to learn. She is a very powerful being. This I learned. I also learned that I am a very powerful being as well. After all, I gave her those tools and showed her how to use them. I've also learned that, just as I still need to call on my mother occassionally for advice and support, she will call on me for the same. And she does. And I've learned that this is a good thing. I know now that not only will we both survive this transition, we will thrive because of it.

"I hope the ache lessons."

There will always be moments in life that cause pain. It may be little wince of embarrasment when you trip over your own feet in front of a crowd. Or perhaps it's seeing an old friend or lover that betrayed your trust. Maybe you are experiencing an awful illness that leaves your body feeling beaten and worn. Or your finances just aren't what you think they should be at this point in your life journey.

Whatever your pain is – no matter how big or how small - you have a choice. You can focus on the seemingly destructive energy of your situation, wallowing in the unfairness of it, and screaming about how nothing could possibly be worse. You can choose to do nothing and let things remain as they are, stagnant. Or you can, instead, choose to find the lesson and the opportunity for joy under the circumstances. It's all up to you – how you choose to view the situation and what you choose to take from it. You can let it destroy you, ignore it and hope it goes away (it won't), or you can allow it to lift you to new levels of self-awareness and compassion. Your choice.

Growing pains. They're not easy. They're not supposed to be. They wouldn't be called "pains" if they were.

"I hope the ache lessons."

It did for me.

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