I am definitely craving carbs today. It's not an accident. I'm quite turned around super saturated with thoughts of remorse, regret and self-loathing that I could eat six loaves of bread from the Bon Bread Store in a single eating binge. And that's EXACTLY what I'm doing as I type this entry. But I am REALLY saturated with the one thought that keeps on seeping into my head like a faucet with wildly gushing water while my head seems to have the plug tightly in place. Get the picture? I'm about ready to burst---not with frustration but with helplessness.
Ready for the thought?
I DO NOT HAVE THE ANSWER TO EVERYTHING. That's right. Most of the time, I DO NOT KNOW WHAT I'M DOING and I DO NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO. But something has to be done and so I improvise to the best of my ability even if I DO NOT KNOW WHAT I'M DOING.
I don't know if I made myself clear enough there.
Since June 19, 1981, I've been a married woman. A wife. And every day since, I've just been improvising. And it's mostly trial and error. Most of the time, it's error. But if I look at the timeline of my life, I can see which things took a looooong time to figure out. And then once I got it figured out....and here's the kicker: are you listening? Once I get things figured out, I still need time to learn NOT to do what I was doing badly. I still need time to figure out how to REPLACE those actions and habits. And most of the time, my repertoire of handy "tools" and "corrective mechanisms" to replace them with are severely lacking. So I grope. And ask for spiritual guidance. I plead with God to give me some flashes of inspiration and knowledge. Many times I do get an answer. And even then, I still have to have the courage and total commitment....a real strong conviction to actually execute that sudden burst of ideas and sometimes, even visions. It took a long time. It's 31 years and counting. And I find myself still improvising and hoping for the best.
Mostly, I also find myself wanting to punish myself for not knowing what to do.
Worst of all is being a mother. That's a stretch for any woman. At first, having that FIRST child is exciting. That is, until he starts going through the various stages and nodal events of his life. Day 3: He's not nursing. He is crying all day. My milk doesn't seem to be enough. My breasts are full and they feel like concrete. They hurt so badly and I'm so tired. My bum hurts. What do I do? I improvise. He starts to turn over faster than other babies and I am sure he's a genius. Until I find out the neighbour's baby is pulling himself up at 6 months. Did I give him the bad genes? So I get depressed. What do I do? I don't know. I improvise ....only to find out I'm pregnant again and my baby isn't even crawling yet. Two sons born the same year!! What do I do? I don't know. I guess how hard can it be when I've already experienced having the first one? Wrong. So wrong. Here's a mother's first startling realization that intellectually she knows but doesn't really hit until it happens: every child is different. It's back to square 1. First baby slept for 4 hours. Second baby doesn't sleep at all unless he's being rocked. All night. What do I do? I don't know. I've never been in this situation before. So I improvise. And so on and so on. Until I have four children. All different. All with different needs. All with different personalities. Just when you figure something out, the next one will break the notion that you think you know what to do.
Every day is a new day. Every day has a list of "firsts". First solid food. First words. First steps. Then it's first day of school. Junior High. High School. Prom. Homecoming. Broken hearts. Missions. Dating. Oh...and dating. Marriages. Daughters-in-law. Yeah--and is there a manual for that? How come you don't instantly love them? That's a new experience. I've never had a daughter-in-law before. So I improvise. It's trial and error again. Wait. And just when you think you know what to do next time, a new one comes along and nothing you learned is useful at all because you suddenly realize that every in-law is different. Just when you think you've got that one figured out, you discover that the next one will require something totally different for your love to even start. But I don't know what to do! Trial and error. More errors. Then....grandchildren. Yeah. Right before I even know HOW to be a grandmother. Oh wait. I still have daughters in school. And what do I do about this? What do I do about that? Then they each start making decisions because they're now adults. Have I ever had adult children before I had adult children? NO. So do I know how to deal with adult children; deal with their decisions, their need to move away from you, their desires to live their lives the way they want to-- their busy lives? Now I have to redefine my role and where I fit in in their lives. Do I know HOW to do that? No! So I improvise. It's trial and error. It's always trial and error. And life simply cannot be defined as 'life' unless we make mistakes because no one ever learns from a perpetual succession of unmitigated successes. Life is about making mistakes so we can learn. But children don't realize that about their parents. Least of all about their mothers. Because we are supposed to know what we're doing.
The onus of motherhood is regret. Because there is no perfect mother or father. And although we know that intellectually, it doesn't feel right. Parents are supposed to know. Parents are supposed to figure things out because we are their children--flesh of their flesh. Parents should be able to read our minds, feel our joys and pain and most especially they are supposed to see and acknowledge all our efforts. Parents should not expect gratitude because it's their job to raise us. And believe me, as a mother, the greatest joy for me is to be able to solve their problems and remove whatever hurt, pain or hurdle that may risk even touching their lives. That's the worst thing about me. But what do I do about that? I don't know. I've never been in a situation like that in a previous life. So I improvise. And it's trial and error again.
Sometimes my children will say something that hurt me profoundly. And then I realize that they wouldn't have said those things if I were a better mother. So what do I do about that? I don't know. So I improvise. I try to think back....like a computer accessing random memories from my own life trying to superimpose a similar experience to what they are experiencing. So I can understand their situation. I was once that age. I used to feel that way about my mother too. The clash between KNOWING how they feel because you've been there and then realizing that those feelings you once had towards your mother now is focused on a different face: YOURS, is simply staggering. Then inside yourself you have to reconcile those two clashing perspectives and you try to regain balance....perspective...and then you feel their pain and realize that because the face is now yours, you begin to feel some self-loathing. While I may know intellectually the hows and whys of these, my delicate and tangled reactions, emotionally, it's hard to catch up. And it takes a battle of wits, insights and common sense to come up with some sane, intelligent response. But what do I do once I get it figured out? I still don't know. So I improvise.
I try to regale them with stories of my own experiences that may give them some perspective or encouragement. But then, am I being self-centered and indulgent by assuming that they want to hear my story? Will they just cover their ears and think "ahh...there goes my mom again talking about her old boyfriends" or "there goes my mom again talking about her life full of strife in the Philippines...." It's like the old "when I was a young girl I used to walk 5 miles to school with cardboard slippers..." So how do I do it so that I can be helpful? I don't know. I don't know. In fact, I KNOW they think I'm just telling them my stories because I've had it worse than their own experiences. They think it's one-up-manship...they think you're minimizing their struggles. And now that I know that and it KILLS me that I am perceived that way---so self-absorbed and insensitive, how do I back pedal? I don't know. I've never been in this situation before. So I have to improvise so I can survive the hurt and STILL try to be supportive even when I hurt. Most of the time I think that I really need to gather more resources to fill my action list...my armaments... my tools. And every day it's something new. Every day it's time to improvise and figure out a way to know what to do, feel or say. But "I don't know" is NOT a valid response. There has to be a response because even not responding or reacting IS a response. That's why "I don't know" is simply not even valid. Every response I give has validity as a parent. Every response has a consequence. Even no response has a consequence.
Parenthood requires bravery because everything I do or don't do carries a huge risk not just on me but upon the very souls of my children who are flesh of my flesh. They are my blood. They grew inside me. They were extracted from my body---independent creatures removed from my body... Amazingly, my life literally depended on their being extracted from me successfully. How can anyone ever understand what a mother feels towards her own flesh...her own body? If you amputate an arm, you would still feel phantom pain wouldn't you? So if I am a bit emotional about my own children, surely there is a God in heaven who can understand me. Or even better, if there is a God in heaven, being a mother surely and indubitably gave me an insight into Godhood that no man can ever have the distinct privilege of having. Motherhood is conquering death. Every time we have children, we laugh at the face of Death.
I don't know anything. And tomorrow, I will be presented with new variables and if I'm lucky, I will serendipitously stumble upon a solution that will be solid enough to help my family. I know my knack for alliteration is annoying but it just happens. And I don't know why. I am just improvising.
But what I've learned is that my parents also knew nothing. I also know they improvised. Their tools and action lists might have been more limited than mine considering the events of their prime: World War II, culture, trauma....and many other mitigating factors. But they did their very best. Were they successful? Were they successful parents?
In my contemplation and assessment, I realize one important thought. Are you listening? And I remember what my father told me in a dream: Everything you do while on earth affects me here. That is what he said to me after being dead for over ten years. Here's what I know...
The question isn't "was I successful as a parent?". The glaring truth is, I have parents. We all do. Am I successful as their child? That's the real question. Because the success of my parents solely depend on what I make of myself. No good parent wants their child to fail. All parents MUST expect excellence. All parents have to believe in their children. How they do it---whether they become nags, or tiger moms, or decide to give their children more 'freedom' and less structure...these are all their "trials and errors"--their improvisations based on their own limitations. and convictions. But as children, we are blessed with the ability to choose to see our parents the way God intended them to be seen. There is a reason why in this earthly life we look FORWARD to every generation and look BACK towards our ancestors when the season demands it. Our parents become successful parents only if we decide to be good people.
God revels in His children. He loves us unceasingly. He provided us a way to attain glory and eternal life through the atonement of His Son. He doesn't ask us much. And we can never thank Him enough. Never. But all He asks of us is to love one another and to love Him. He is a parent. And His success and glory depend on our choices....our obedience and our desire to be like Him. We will never be able to that and still He provides a way for us to be able to do so by grace. He never fails and He will never fail us. To give God glory is to give Him our love. I understand these principles and concepts much better being a mother and a daughter. I owe my parents so much and their success is measured by my own accomplishments. And more importantly, my parents' solace and deep sense of peace and calm come from my forgiveness and acknowledgment that they, like me, did not know what to do but were improvising and learning through trial and error....the best way they knew how. As their daughter, I must give them that peace.....that all that I do...all that I choose to do will have my very, very best efforts. All the good I can do with my life will define them. But I can also choose to deliberately rebel so I can "punish" them. But the truth is, in doing that, I only punish myself. These concepts are metaphorically similar to how Lucifer decided to rebel: to deny God His glory by choosing to become every thing that God isn't. But the truth is, in the end, he will still be the devil. As mortals, we can choose to do the same to our parents as horrible and terrible they may be. Because that choice is OURS and ours alone. We can chose to be righteous and noble if we want to. That is why we are here. To have the ability to choose righteousness. And that is what gives God His glory and power.
I don't know much. I don't know what to do. I don't even know how to feel sometimes. But I have the hope and faith that my efforts will be rewarded. The choice belongs to my children just as that choice belongs to me as the daughter of my parents. I can choose to punish their efforts by making myself miserable. Or I can choose to be a better person every day even if I don't know what to do. I improvise. I try. I make mistakes. Then I get back up and do it over. Over and over. Sometimes I get it right. Sometimes I don't. And so on and so forth. This is why I love the Saviour and what He has done for me. I see Him in all things. Yes, even this time, these experiences when I don't know what to do...when I don't know what to say or feel and I have to plead for guidance...or improvise..err and beg for forgiveness. I need His atoning powers because many times, I just don't know what to do and I just try my very best. And most of the time, it's really trial and error.
I don't know how much more time I have to keep on improving and learning. Every day is an experiment. Every day is a new day to figure things out. Even when I step into that great void of death, I still will be improvising. After all, I've never been dead before.
