“He who has knowledge restrains and is careful with his words, and a man of understanding and wisdom has a cool spirit.” Proverbs 17:27 AMP

Dismissed

John was home from college ready for a summer to work and reconnect with old friends. He leaned against the kitchen island, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast as his mom, Elizabeth loaded the dishwasher. “What’s wrong, Bud?” quipped Elizabeth. “Jenny said we need a break in our relationship. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now,” he whispered.

Elizabeth continued to load the dishwasher and in her usual upbeat, positive attitude said, “Honestly, she wasn’t my favorite. At least you’re young. There are plenty of great girls out there. Just go pick another one!”

John bristled at her comment and thought, “When will she ever care about how I feel? I’m tired of being dismissed.” The divide in their relationship grew as John slinked out of the kitchen to go to his room.

Do you practice empathy?

How empathetic are you as a mom? Are you good at joining your adult child in their pain, refusing to rescue or fix or make it about you? Do you minimize their pain and ask them to get over it?

I did not practice empathy well for many years, and it left my grown kids feeling overlooked and unvalidated. I could see the pain in their eyes, but I never understood until my son pointed it out. “I just want what I feel to be validated,” was his plea.

Perhaps, like me, you didn’t know.

You were ignorant.

I don’t think empathy was modeled for me.

I had to learn.

“Do not fear, for I am with you. Do not be afraid, for I am your God. I will give you strength, and for sure I will help you. Yes, I will hold you up with My right hand that is right and good.”

The Struggle

Bob and I sat on our weekly FaceTime call with our oldest daughter, Moriah as tears rolled down her face, as she recounted another distressing interaction with her boss. Her younger boss lacked managerial skills. Moriah was hardworking, competent, but her boss micromanaged her every move. Every creative decision she made was questioned. This left Moriah crushed and disappointed in her circumstance.

Moriah flourished in academia, maintaining her 4.0 GPA and received a fellowship for Graduate School. She was esteemed by professors when she received her Masters In Creative Writing. She spent months searching for creative writing jobs in her metropolitan area. With no experience, companies wouldn’t take a chance on her, so she was forced to get a retail job to pay her bills.

The pandemic and continued frustration with not being in a field she loved, left her heartbroken and disappointed in herself and her dreams for the future.

It wasn’t our job to fix, solve, or carry Moriah’s situation. That was her job. Our role was to support her.

We listened well and encouraged her to be responsible to work so she could pay her bills. It’s no small feat living in a large city by yourself, as the cost of living is outrageous. We pointed out what she was doing well, and reassured her to keep fighting to find something new. And she did.

How To Communicate Support

We will all experience tension as our grown kids navigate hardship. They may experience health issues, occupational distress, financial trouble, heartbreak in romantic relationships, or mental health concerns. How we communicate to our children in this season will have a lasting impact.

Instead of rushing in to rescue, we rely on this truth from God’s Word. “Do not fear, for I am with you. Do not be afraid, for I am your God. I will give you strength, and for sure I will help you. Yes, I will hold you up with My right hand that is right and good.” Isaiah 41:10 In the crushing God is at work, but we must allow our kids to experience this for themselves.

“Those who know your name trust in you, for you, O Lord, do not abandon those who search for you.”- Psalm 9:10 NLT

The End of An Era

Keenan stood at the podium at his high school graduation, on a steamy June evening, as he offered a short speech. His 6’5” frame was draped in a red graduation gown and mortarboard hat. Years on the stage made him a confident speaker. He was calm and articulate; his hazel eyes bright with anticipation for the future.

He wasn’t driven by achievement or accolades. He loved ideas and meaningful connection. He devoured books and ideas like candy. He was a wise old soul for a young man.

He was leaving our rural Minnesota hamlet to attend a college in downtown Minneapolis. What a jump it would be and he was bursting to get out of small town life. There was little to do except hang out with friends at the local coffee shop or drive around. He was ready for richer experiences.

His junior and senior year were spent mostly away from us because of work and student activities. His absence at the dinner table seemed a normal part of our routine. But not having him in our home felt impossible to reconcile. His siblings adored him and so did we. How was I going to let my firstborn go?

Every mom comes to this point in her relationship with her emerging adult. It is time to release them. This is God’s plan and a normal process of parenting. We knew this day was coming. Instead of dreading it, we partner with God to release our emerging adult children.

God in His sovereign goodness does not abandon us. He is our source of help and strength in this unfamiliar phase of motherhood. As we lean into His strength, He infuses us with the ability to relinquish control and watch our baby soar.

You are not left alone. You are not forgotten.

“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not be weary, they will walk and not be faint.”- Isaiah 40:31

The End In Sight

I watched Rebekah gracefully cross the stage to accept her certificate, confident and composed, as my mind flashed to her four-year-old-self. I saw her in her purple sequined tutu and her first pair of tap shoes, blissfully on stage at her first dance recital. Her wavy hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, with a purple feather hat tipped to the side. She grinned from ear to ear as the music faded up. Her brown eyes sparkled as she danced.

I remembered the challenging middle school years where girls hurled insults, and hurt her tender heart. “Mean Girls” wasn’t just a movie, it was a shocking reality for my young teen. She navigated rejection and learned important lessons about friendship.

High school brought endless leadership opportunities and growth. And here we were at the end, as our calendar was filled with events.The final Choir Concert, Spring Musical, National Honor Society Banquet, Prom, Student Council Banquet, Speech Banquet. She blissfully walked through each event while I thought my heart would break in two. How can a mom experience such joy and sadness in the same moments?

I was on the cusp of releasing another child. This was child number four, and you think it would be easier, but every one cut me to the core. Bittersweet was the best way to describe it. I could see how God had grown my girl, but the thought of her leaving me filled me with sadness.

We will all face these moments as our teen prepares to graduate from high school. How do we navigate this shift? Some moms feel immense grief while others are jubilant and ready to see their baby soar. What can we learn from a mom who has been through this five times?

Here’s my confession:

1) We live in tension of holding on and letting go: It’s normal to vacillate between sadness and joy. One moment we feel our hearts burst with pride, and we will only think of what we are losing. On Monday, we are elated as we dream about what to do with their empty room, and by Wednesday, we weep over the thought of not hearing their voice each morning. Friday leaves us annoyed as our independent teen snaps at our question about her graduation party. We will be happy to not have tension in our home.

We are up.

We are down.

We are all around, as a case of whiplash sets in.

All these emotions are normal. It doesn’t matter if it is child number one or number six. We will experience a vast array of emotions. This is the cost of love. This is a time we extend grace to ourselves, as we simply give ourselves space to process these feelings, with God. When we pour it all out, God comforts us.

“Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.” Romans 2:12

Tearful Talk

I plopped down next to my oldest son, Keenan as he rested his achy joints. A battle with arthritis had significantly affected his young body. Often he needed to stretch out because sitting exacerbates his pain. “You all right, Bud?” I asked with warm eyes. “Yes, I’m just stretching.” I pulled a blanket over my legs, as a cool breeze floated through an open window.

“You okay, mom?” he asked as he sensed my melancholy. “Yea, I’m okay, just a little sad that we have to leave again. You know this part is hard for me. When you were little I never imagined our family would be spread across the country like this,” I whispered, as warm tears rolled down my cheeks.

With the wisdom of a first-born he said, “I’m sorry this is hard for you, mom, but maybe it won’t be this way forever. It’s the season in life where the kids are venturing out. We’re learning independence. It’s good for us. Maybe one day we will all live closer.” I blew my nose again and hoped what he said would come true.

I never thought what our family would look like once the kids were grown. Perhaps I was in denial? I never thought about the future beyond their growing up years. I assumed we would all live somewhere in Minnesota, our home state. Yet, here we are, with five grown kids, spread out in Illinois, Minnesota, Missouri, Iowa and soon to be Utah. One child will be nineteen hours away.

I honestly didn’t see that coming. Perhaps you’re like me and wonder how we ended up with so much physical distance between our kids? Maybe you carry a different expectation that didn’t quite go the way you imagined. Are you shocked by it, too?

What do we do with our collective grief? How do we release expectations and come to a beautiful place of acceptance? Where is God in all of this? Does He even care about us?

The Big Book for recovery says this about expectations: “Expectations are premeditated resentments.” Ouch, momma, that one hurts, doesn’t it? We have a choice to make when it comes to our adult kids. We can require them to meet our expectations, thus making them miserable and bound, or we can lean into God’s loving hand and receive the grace to let go and accept the changes.

I cringe a little when I hear mommas say, “My kids will never leave me.” I do not believe we have the right to say such a thing. Our children are not made to meet our expectations. They are called by God to build their own lives.

What can we do to lean into God as we unravel the emotional overwhelm of releasing expectations? How do we actually lay them down? How do we quiet the demands of our selfish hearts?

“Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:16

A Realization

She slowly guided the delicate bridal gown over her long frame, moving as if it were a fragile china cup. The dress fit her perfectly, enhancing her natural beauty. The cathedral length veil held the drama she had hoped for, and I thought my heart might explode when I saw the joy captured on her face. This was going to be a day to remember, as Rebekah and Ryan became husband and wife.

A lump formed in my throat as my chest grew tight, and I didn’t hold back the bittersweet tears. Though I was thrilled she was marrying Ryan, I realized she wasn’t mine anymore. From this day forward, our relationship would be different.

Rebekah and I shared a deep bond; talking was “our thing.” We shared coffee dates with meaningful conversation. She prattled on about her friends, her struggles, and her beau. We chatted every Sunday for the four years she was away at college. We laughed hysterically as she regaled her adventures at university, and we cried together when she was overwhelmed and lonely.

I prayed for her as she drove those seven hours, either to campus or back home, all alone, checking my phone app often to make sure she was safe. I wondered, was it even wise to allow a young woman to travel alone, for such a long distance?

The day we dropped her at the far-away place, we sat through the welcome service at her Christian college and tears rolled down our cheeks. I scrounged through my purse, digging for more tissues as waves of unexpected grief crashed through our morning. We wept through the service, wiping away tears with our lunch napkins, mostly trying to avert the gaze of onlookers, and we bawled as we drove away leaving our baby, to figure it all out, alone. It was a melancholy seven-hour ride home. I’ll never forget the look on her fragile face as we drove away. She seemed much too young to be in this big world by herself, in a place where she had no one to cling to.

How would we ever get used to the distance between us? What was I going to do without Rebekah? Within the first semester, she wasn’t sure she would survive her new world. Between the drama with a friend group, annoyance with a roommate, and a longing for the familiar, she persevered through the usual growing pains of college.

Rebekah got braver and more involved, and tried new things, as she began to grow. She ventured away from home and discovered who she was, developing her strengths as a leader and learning significant life lessons in this protected community. During her sophomore year, our girl reconnected with Ryan, whom she had met at church camp when they were fourteen and sixteen, and they fell in love.

I dreamed of having grown kids nearby; we would have coffee dates and family dinners, and sleepovers with grandkids and “cousin camp” would be part of our routine. High hopes and expectations ruled my days, but my dream of having this one near was not to be.

Fast forward to her wedding day, my dreams shattered as reality dawned, she had built a life with Ryan, far away, and it hurt. My vision of having her near was gone as they began their professional careers, bought a house, and a dog, 437 excruciatingly long miles away from me.

What’s a midlife mom to do with a heart full of expectations for her kids? How in the world does she shift from this leading role in her child’s life to a supportive role where her adult child is now free to make their own choices?

“Filled with love and compassion, he ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him.”-Luke 15:20

An Invitation to Love

Angela struggled as she watched her daughter, Jessica, walk away from the faith of her youth. Maybe it’s not so much that she walked away, as she added fresh perspectives on faith. Away from family, she was free to hear new ideas on religion, culture, and belief systems. A secular world view was presented in the college classrooms. Belief in God was scoffed at by her professors. Jessica loved God, but doubts clouded her decisions. The familiar voice of the Tempter rang in her ears, “Did God really say that?”

College life offered freedom from the restrictions and rules of her youth. Independence and free thinking wooed her away from God.

These changes alarmed Angela, but she pressed in and focused on God. One day as she sat with her Maker, in prayer, He gave her a profound revelation. She thought, “just because my daughter is making different choices, does not permit us from being close. I’m still free to love her deeply, and give the rest to God. Only the Holy Spirit can convict, convince, or teach her. My role, in that sense, is over. It is not my job anymore, now that she is an adult. My most significant job is to love her well.”

This fresh understanding buoyed Angela. It took away the feelings of shame and regret, like she had somehow parented her daughter wrong. Shame no longer plagued her, and she was free to maintain a close bond with her daughter. Worry was replaced with peace, and Angela surrendered her daughter to God, trusting His activity in Jessica’s life. All pressure was removed and devotion flowed easily,

Midlife momma, we might experience this with our adult children. They will walk away from their faith, and we will need to figure out what to do. Will we be embittered and judgmental, a Pharisee of sorts, pointing out all their wrongs? Will we lead with love? Will we allow them to wrestle with their faith without fearing they come to a different conclusion than we had hoped?

How we treat this child will likely change the trajectory of their life.

Let’s take our cues from a well known story in Luke about a father and a son. Most commentators focus on the son’s behavior, but today I want to lean in and watch what the father does. The story goes like this:

The son grew weary of being home, so he asked his father for his inheritance. The father gave it, and the son went off to live life with no restraint. He did what he wanted. He was careless and reckless. He squandered his inheritance leaving himself poor and destitute, begging for food. He remembered his father and returned home.

“So he returned home to his father. And while he was still a long way off, his father saw him coming. Filled with love and compassion, he ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him. His son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, and I am no longer worthy of being called your son. But his father said to the servants, ‘Quick! Bring the finest robe in the house and put it on him. Get a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet. And kill the calf we have been fattening. We must celebrate with a feast, for this son of mine was dead and has now returned to life. He was lost, but now he is found.’ So the party began. Luke 15:20-24

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can flesh do to me?”-Psalm 56:3-4

Desperate Situations

I reached for my phone, as my Moriah’s name appeared on the screen. “I need to get out, mom,” she said resolutely. I sighed a prayer of relief. I rearranged my schedule and drove the four and half hours to help her pack. Thoughts rolled through my head, on the tedious drive, as I flung desperate prayers to heaven. God please, let him not be there. Please help us get her packed quickly. Please heal her broken heart. Fear and relief marched side by side in my mind.

We huddled in the closet of her loft apartment in downtown Des Moines. The concrete floors were cold beneath us, indicative of the mood, as Moriah riffled through her clothes.

Hot tears streamed down her face, as anguished cries escaped her mouth. “I’ve ruined everything. My life is one big disappointment!”

I sat beside her, heartbroken and afraid. What can I do? What should I say? These questions raced through my head as my daughter prepared to leave an unhealthy relationship. I waffled between resentment and hopefulness.

I felt satisfied with her determination to acknowledge and respond to the red flags in her relationship. But at that moment, I was certain my heart would break for her vulnerable state. “You are the bravest young woman, I know.” I choked.

I held her tight, willing her to receive some of my strength. God met us there, on the frigid floor. She may not have recognized it, in her pain, but He buoyed me, as my heart sank. I had never experienced this depth of powerlessness with my child. I doubted my skills to handle it well. I was desperate for Godly wisdom.

Oh, how I wanted to rescue and fix her all those months. We had conversations about his behavior and what it meant. Deep down, I resented him, but I simply said, “if you stay, it will be hard.” I could not tell her to leave because it was not my place. She had to realize the complexities of her situation and make her own decision. By the grace of God, she did, as courage welled within her.

Midlife momma, our children will face situations where we will want to fix and rescue. We will want to scream, “Don’t do that!” but in this phase with our kids, we must hold our tongues. This will be the season we cling to God. We will trust Him.

There was a mom who was really tired. BEYOND TIRED.

She was counting down the hours to “end” her active parenting.

It had been every day for 25++ years.

She found herself sitting on the floor, covered in empty boxes, about to sleep on a futon that had been through her three other college kids and was now gracing the dorm room of her baby.

She couldn’t believe she was finally here.

But she knew why she was absolutely exhausted. Who wouldn’t be?

She lay awake thinking about ALL.THE.THINGS.

ALL. THE. THINGS.

*Q-tips covered in alcohol carefully for 10 days on each of four babies’ umbilical cords until that gross thing turned black and fell off

*Shopping with four children under seven (it was like taking four goats to the store…I “kid” you not…get it? get it? I “kid” you not)

*Sorting legos into bags by color, size and type at least 52 times (to be exact)

Playing Ms. PacMan on Nintendo 64 surrounded by eight excited eyes until she beat all the levels and killed the witch

*Filling out back-to-school forms until her eyes twitched and hands curled up in agony (can’t this be computerized school board?)

*Packing 180 (# of days in a school year) X 4 (# of kids in her house) X 13 (# of school years) lunches (equals 9,360)

*Chore charts, memory verse charts, learn-to-pee-and-poop-on-the-potty charts, and behavior charts, all complete with stickers and prizes

*Watching (or at least hearing from the kitchen) ad nauseam reruns from the Disney Channel, Nick Jr., PBS, Cartoon Network and Netflix

“Be completely gentle and humble, be patient, bearing with one another in love.”-Ephesians 4:2

That Annoying Sound

The sound machine, on high volume, swooshed the most annoying sound. It didn’t replicate ocean waves, at all, as the high volume distorted into jarring white noise. It grated on my soul. I tossed and turned in restless fits as our infant grandson, Gus, slept peacefully. We had the only guest bedroom at Mom and Don’s condominium and we had to share with Gus because he needed a dark room and the noise machine to sleep. Everyone else was laid out on air mattresses in the living room. This was our only alternative if I wanted a comfy bed versus a lumpy air mattress.

I flipped and flopped all night long, deeply annoyed by the offensive sound. Gus was sound asleep. Couldn’t I just turn it down a little? Every time I tried, Gus woke up and Keenan, his dad, would come in and comfort him. This went on all night. I was frustrated. Keenan was agitated and we couldn’t wait for the dawn to break, so we could end this insanity.

At morning's arrival, Keenan asked to talk to me. He was livid. We sat on the edge of the bed, while everyone else was still asleep. With our bedhead and bleary-eyes, I could see the anger and hurt on his face. He told me how he felt. I was crushed by hurting him. I listened and let him pour out the pain and then I did the only thing I could do. I apologized.

I was broken for hurting him, and for being so selfish about the stupid sound machine. I had dismissed his parenting choice, which hurt him deeply. He realized he may have overreacted from the sheer exhaustion of it all. Hot tears fell, but we wrapped up the conversation with a big hug. We extended grace to each other.

Apologize, Mom

Most often the conflicts or tension we experience in our relationships are because both parts are contributing to the stress. It’s never just one or the other. As we navigate this new way of relating to our kids, it’s often hard for moms to change roles. It’s difficult to not make all the decisions anymore. Resentment can grow quickly when communication or expectations have been challenging.

The antidote for bitterness is a gentle tone and a quick apology. It diffuses conflict and brings the relationship back to civility. The tension is removed and a tone of understanding and respect returns.

Are you the kind of mom who apologizes easily or are you a bit too proud for that? Are you the mom who squares her shoulders and digs in her heels with her adult kids? Do you set your jaw and harden your heart in conflict? Conflicts will come; they’re inevitable in this season of parenting. Apologizing is helpful.

“A wise man will hear and increase in learning.” -Proverbs 1:5

Quiet Conversations

It was late at night as we gathered as a family after Keziah and Forrest’s wedding rehearsal dinner. The room was buzzing with conversation and laughter, as Keenan, our oldest son, pulled me aside and wanted to talk. Keenan’s not one for small talk and neither am I. I love to get to the heart of the matter in our conversations. We’re not afraid to be honest and vulnerable with each other. Usually our conversations involve tears because that’s how we’re wired. We sat on the kitchen stools as he started the conversation. He was animated and passionate because that’s his personality.

I didn’t agree with everything he said, but I knew the greatest gift I could give him in this moment was my undivided attention and a listening ear. I leaned in and looked him in the eye, and I saw nothing but love and compassion. I tuned out the rest of the family because this was important to him, and I wanted him to know it was important to me too.

As he spoke, I proposed in my heart to listen for understanding. I wanted to hear beyond the words to the message between the lines. I wanted to comprehend his heart. I was going to set aside my agenda, my opinion, and truly hear him.

He gave me the opportunity to share my heart too. But I did it with humility, relying on the power of God. I walked away from the conversation knowing I had heard him and validated his opinion. I leaned in, was present, and truly heard where he was at. I felt like the right thing to do.

Listen With Restraint

Listening doesn’t have to be a grin and bear it exercise, as you grit your teeth in frustration. Listening is a gift of love, an act of surrender, and a partnership with the Divine, even when your relationship with your adult child is complicated and messy. Especially when what you are hearing is different from what you believe or agree with.

Listening well communicates compassion, validation, and empathy. Paying attention is the one benefit we can freely give. It’s an opportunity for grace to flow.

“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.”-Psalm 51:10

The Voice of Shame

I don’t want to face it. I’d rather hide from it, but today I’m smacked with my shame. She cuts with her remarks.

You are a failure!

You couldn’t even pray well enough for your kids!

You really messed it up, mom!

What kind of Christian are you?

I sat in a puddle of tears again, wishing, hoping, praying my child wasn’t walking away from God. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. This isn’t the vision I had for our family.

The Holy Spirit gently whispers in my thoughts, “This isn’t about your child. I hold your child. What I want to talk about today is your heart. Let’s look at why you feel shame. It’s more about you than them.”

Honestly, facing the condition of my heart wasn’t something I wanted to do.

Wouldn't it be easier to focus on how they had let me down?

God graciously revealed areas of pride, judgement, and criticism I had allowed to grow in my heart surrounding this child. He led me to understand my expectations were harming this child. While the enemy wanted to beat me down with shame, the Holy Spirit wanted to grow me. He lovingly revealed how my motives were the things hurting this child. This was the beginning of my letting go and I didn’t experience humiliation nearly as often.

“But now, O Jacob, listen to the Lord who created you. O Israel, the who formed you says, ‘Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you; I have called you by name. You are mine.” - Isaiah 43:1

Can We Talk?

I recognized the name in my direct messages from decades ago. We met through mutual friends and had kids of similar ages. Anna reached out wanting to know if we could talk. I sent her a message welcoming a conversation.

I heard the heaviness in her voice as she held back tears. “I love my adult kids so much, and we have a great relationship, but I see changes in my son and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to mess this up,” she says. Her adult son was raised in the church and went to a Christian college, and now his lifestyle is completely anti-God, and he told her he no longer believes in God.

“I feel like such a failure,” she cried. “I remember feeling like that, too,” I sighed. “I didn’t know who to talk to about it. I can’t talk to people at church because they’ll judge me. I’m so worried I’m going to do something wrong to damage our relationship, and I don't want to do that,” she said. “I didn’t know where to turn, and I thought of you,” she said. We chatted for thirty minutes as she poured out her heartache. I silently whispered a prayer of thanks for God sent her my way. We need each other. I listened and encouraged as she felt relieved to talk about it.

The Forgotten Moms

We have an army of forgotten moms trying to navigate their changing roles with their adult children, and they are filled with shame and don’t know where to turn. They suffer in silence assuming they’ve completely ruined their kids. They carry grief and emotional overwhelm.