Day 6: Hands Wide Open

In middle school, my girlfriends and I would write our favorite sayings. Silly things like, "love is never having to say you're sorry." Any relationship survive that platitude? I scribbled, "If you love something set it free" on my bright yellow and green "flower power" notebook. At the ripe old age of 13, I understood the meaning of this piece of wisdom because I had just broken up with my boyfriend of 6 whole months.

Some 30 plus years later, I have had the opportunity to set both of my children free to the magical life of college. Two weeks ago Brendan smiled down at me (literally, he is 9 inches taller) and said, "Mom, I think it's time to say 'goodbye.'" And so we did. Wailing and gnashing of teeth, and the comfort stop at a friend's home helped ease the pain. If you are ever dropping a child off at Auburn, I highly recommend Marcia's hard lemonade, provided you have a designated driver.

Yesterday, we schlepped Kiki's life out of the cars and into her dorm room at Birmingham Southern College. (OK-when we pulled up there were so many helpers, I didn't have to touch so much as a flat iron. But doesn't schlepping sound heroic?)

After helping her settle in, we attended the convocation. Parents hovered in stadium seats overlooking empty chairs awaiting the 400 new students. Robed professors proceeded in first and lined the aisle, fortification for the students as they filed past. Or perhaps they served as a protective barrier from the mamas above, only a hair's breath away from leaping below, snatching their babies, saving them from the parties, drinking, and sex which we could smell in the air.

Bowing our heads, we prayed with the chaplain, "God of new beginnings, we rejoice this day as we welcome to our community these new students....We are mindful of those around the world this day who do not have the privilege of higher education: whose lives are subject to violence and poverty, who must work and struggle just to survive. Forgive us for insulating ourselves from the world's realities, and help us to use the education we receive here to improve the world around us."

Fearful thoughts were replaced by a remembering of what we loved about this school: the intimacy, the honoring of the sacred, the commitment to make the world a better place. In only minutes, ritual provided well-needed comfort to unsettled souls.

Perhaps in hopes of framing our personal stories in the context of The Story, President Pollick quoted Ecclesiastes, "For every thing there is a season..."

After the ceremony Kiki walked to the parking lot with us to retrieve a few final items from the car. Echoing her brother's words she said, "Mom, let's say 'goodbye' here." We held each other close and then I opened my hands to set her free. It was her season to move on; mine and Malcolm's to channel parenting energy in other directions.

Kneeling in church this morning, I looked down at my hands. They didn't feel open, but empty. And yet, these same hands which held Brendan and Kiki as babies, which released them to the world, they were open, ready to receive, to raise up and give thanks. Experience tells me, this grieving will take time. That some moments I will feel empty and others quite open. I owe it to Brendan and Kiki to honor them by trying my best to fully embrace the empty and make space for the open. Once again, they can be my teachers.

Is there something in your life that you are holding on to that you are ready to, or is wanting to, be set free? Are you clinging to seasons past? If you were to envision opening your hands receptively, what would that be like? Would creating a ritual of release be helpful? This letting go work can be challenging as well as rewarding. Best wishes on the path and Namaste.