Passing Through Gethsemane t's been a very difficult month emotionally. My beautiful Hannah just experienced her first break-up. It is agonizing for me to watch her as she takes on each day bravely, with enough resolve not to be bitter, angry or negative as she transcends those painful emotions germane to the ending of a relationship. She is barely 18 and has never before had a meaningful friendship with a boy though their dealings are, in my books, woefully insignificant. Both she and the boy are extremely focused on their schoolwork. Both are on the valedictorian track. Both are busy with their music, he being the star saxophonist in jazz band, she, the keyboardist. Both have hectic extra-curricular and church-related activities. Their so-called "relationship" is actually limited to quick late night phone calls usually commencing after a grueling load of homework and Friday or Saturday night get-togethers with a gaggle of close friends usually in someone's home where parents are present. But the emotions she feels are still deep, tender and most of all, real. Emotions are the same no matter what the age. Little children sometimes fear the dark or looking under their beds and that fear is just as real as the fear I have of snakes. And I was not about to dismiss what she was going through.
I feel her loneliness and melancholy. I feel the pain that she so exquisitely feels as she longs for that warm security of belonging to someone who matters to her. I feel the emptiness she feels not knowing what to replace that hole in her heart with when someone you love is no longer present and that hole gets wider and deeper. I feel her restlessness when the hour approaches when her cell phone is supposed to ring and she can hear his voice wishing her sweet dreams, whispering to her how beautiful she looked that day or simply his "good nights". I sense her fear, that gnawing feeling that rises as she anticipates him being with another girl who will enjoy his smell, his warmth, his voice. And being her mother, I wrestle with the feeling of helplessness because I do not have a magic wand that can take away her longing and her pain and replace them with clarity and assurance. I feel her pain. Ten times more. I feel her pain.
But I am not without my wits about me. I will give her power. I am obviously not an 18 year old. I am her mother and I have passed through this Gethsemane many times. I recognize all those feelings. I see things that she cannot see. I have not lived my live as fully as I have without collecting a menagerie of tools and nuggets of wisdom to help empower her. I will endow her with knowledge and perspective. I will teach her that she has the power to change the world around her by just rewiring the way she perceives it. I will carefully show her how simple human behaviour is...to think outside her pain...to reconnoiter her surroundings to find all the tools and devices to break the paralyzing effects of hurt and disappointment. I have been with her throughout this experience and by her side. I listen to her talk about her feelings, the events of the day, her plans. I take her shopping, to our favorite restaurants and talk about our planned summer trips to England and Spain. We run to Neiman Marcus to get her the most exquisite prom gown we can find. She will be a revelation on that night. A most beautiful vision. I let her talk about him and I listen with interest, putting myself in her shoes. I help her strategize her days, her inevitable encounters with him at school, his own misgivings. I help her understand his concerns, why he continues to care for her, texting her every night. We wade through these confusing communiques. Then I entertain her with tales of my experiences. Sometimes they are hilarious when told in retrospect. Sometimes, they become fresh again when recollected. She asks me many questions, I offer her perspective. We talk long into the night and sometimes until early morning. My love for her is immense. I warn her that break-ups are a necessary part of everyone's search for the best life partner--and in our case, an eternal companion. I tell her that she may have at least one or two more break-ups before she finds her true mate. And that they don't get easy. They will still be intense. But her ability to cope should be enhanced depending on her ability to glean wisdom and direction as she discovers her true self. It is not adversity that strengthens us but our ability to dig inside ourselves for that power that God himself has endowed us with to help us pass through our Gethsemanes.
Yesterday, the dam that held her tears broke and I held her close to me. I could feel her warmth and smell her sweet smell as her shoulders trembled as she cried. I told her I loved her. Over and over. My love for her is so deep and so strong. She is my daughter and the best I have to offer the world. She amazes me.
When the tears finally ended, a sweetness came upon us. It was clarity. The clouds had passed. And all of a sudden, she knew. The mist of darkness that had blinded her from seeing her strengths, her gifts and her powers dissipated. She saw herself again and she felt empowered. She had passed through her Gethsemane.
This morning, my wise and beautiful daughter regained most of her confidence and self-assurance. The pain is still fresh but her wounds are on the mend. It has been a month since the break-up occurred and she can now see around her and past the pain. It was as if the rains had stopped.
She has left Gethsemane.
I feel her loneliness and melancholy. I feel the pain that she so exquisitely feels as she longs for that warm security of belonging to someone who matters to her. I feel the emptiness she feels not knowing what to replace that hole in her heart with when someone you love is no longer present and that hole gets wider and deeper. I feel her restlessness when the hour approaches when her cell phone is supposed to ring and she can hear his voice wishing her sweet dreams, whispering to her how beautiful she looked that day or simply his "good nights". I sense her fear, that gnawing feeling that rises as she anticipates him being with another girl who will enjoy his smell, his warmth, his voice. And being her mother, I wrestle with the feeling of helplessness because I do not have a magic wand that can take away her longing and her pain and replace them with clarity and assurance. I feel her pain. Ten times more. I feel her pain.
But I am not without my wits about me. I will give her power. I am obviously not an 18 year old. I am her mother and I have passed through this Gethsemane many times. I recognize all those feelings. I see things that she cannot see. I have not lived my live as fully as I have without collecting a menagerie of tools and nuggets of wisdom to help empower her. I will endow her with knowledge and perspective. I will teach her that she has the power to change the world around her by just rewiring the way she perceives it. I will carefully show her how simple human behaviour is...to think outside her pain...to reconnoiter her surroundings to find all the tools and devices to break the paralyzing effects of hurt and disappointment. I have been with her throughout this experience and by her side. I listen to her talk about her feelings, the events of the day, her plans. I take her shopping, to our favorite restaurants and talk about our planned summer trips to England and Spain. We run to Neiman Marcus to get her the most exquisite prom gown we can find. She will be a revelation on that night. A most beautiful vision. I let her talk about him and I listen with interest, putting myself in her shoes. I help her strategize her days, her inevitable encounters with him at school, his own misgivings. I help her understand his concerns, why he continues to care for her, texting her every night. We wade through these confusing communiques. Then I entertain her with tales of my experiences. Sometimes they are hilarious when told in retrospect. Sometimes, they become fresh again when recollected. She asks me many questions, I offer her perspective. We talk long into the night and sometimes until early morning. My love for her is immense. I warn her that break-ups are a necessary part of everyone's search for the best life partner--and in our case, an eternal companion. I tell her that she may have at least one or two more break-ups before she finds her true mate. And that they don't get easy. They will still be intense. But her ability to cope should be enhanced depending on her ability to glean wisdom and direction as she discovers her true self. It is not adversity that strengthens us but our ability to dig inside ourselves for that power that God himself has endowed us with to help us pass through our Gethsemanes.
Yesterday, the dam that held her tears broke and I held her close to me. I could feel her warmth and smell her sweet smell as her shoulders trembled as she cried. I told her I loved her. Over and over. My love for her is so deep and so strong. She is my daughter and the best I have to offer the world. She amazes me.
When the tears finally ended, a sweetness came upon us. It was clarity. The clouds had passed. And all of a sudden, she knew. The mist of darkness that had blinded her from seeing her strengths, her gifts and her powers dissipated. She saw herself again and she felt empowered. She had passed through her Gethsemane.
This morning, my wise and beautiful daughter regained most of her confidence and self-assurance. The pain is still fresh but her wounds are on the mend. It has been a month since the break-up occurred and she can now see around her and past the pain. It was as if the rains had stopped.
She has left Gethsemane.
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