I’ll leave the light on for you

(from a mother's heart) 

 

I have just discovered yet another term for the season in which I’m living.

I am in my ‘lighthouse era’.

It’s a strange place to be. And although I have technically been partially in this era for 12 years, it’s really beginning to hit home right now, in just the past week or so.

If you know our family at all, you will know that we have 5 amazing daughters. But with daughters comes emotional times. Not just from them as they grow into young ladies and adulthood, but also from their mother.

One of the hardest parts of being a parent, is letting go.

We have just seen our 4^th daughter get married and the 5^th one is very soon to be stepping into the role of wife as well.

Time has flown by and I’ve gone from having 5 little giggling girls dancing around the kitchen in dress up clothes, helping me bake and clean to young ladies all grown up and mature and making their own way in the world, walking beside the one they’ve chosen to do life with, excited at the prospect of a happy future full of dreams and hopes.

And this is where something I read recently really resonated with me and helped me change my perspective a little and gain some insight in my ever-changing identity.

I am in the lighthouse era of motherhood.

Let me explain.

When your children are little, they are in the boat with you. You spend your days making sure they are safe inside the confines of the boat. You steer the course. You carry them through every wave. You keep them safe. They rarely leave your side.

But one day, ever so slowly and sometimes, without you even realizing it at first, they begin to build boats of their own. They begin to venture farther from the shore. They start charting their own course. Making their own decisions. They learn to navigate rough seas on their own.

And for the first time, your job is not to climb into the boat with them every time a storm is near, grabbing hold of the wheel to steer them from the rocks and adjusting the sails.

There is a shift in the dynamic.

Your job is to leave the light on.

Your job is to be the steady light that helps them find their way when the waves tower overhead and the shoreline begins to disappear.

Your job is to be the place they know they can always look for when life gets hard. The voice that whispers, “I’m still here.” The arms that remain outstretched, the home that always welcomes them back.

It is one of the hardest transitions of a mother. It’s not learning to love them less, it’s learning to love them from the shoreline. It’s being the light in the darkness. The welcoming warmth and beacon for them to look for and their safe place.

I have cried tears of sadness at seeing them go but also tears of happiness for the joy I see in their eyes as they walk down that aisle, with eyes full of love and excitement, dreaming of the life they are about to build.

It’s hard to look at the empty rooms. The spot in the yard where their car no longer sits. Their place at the table that is now vacant. The clothes on the line that don’t belong to them. The dark window as I look across the yard and see no light peeking out from the curtains.

But, as hard as it is, it reminds me of what I need to be. A lighthouse. They don’t need me like they used to, but one thing is for sure, I am here when they do.

We are so blessed that our children still want to come home. They still want to visit and sit around our table and laugh as we sip coffee and share what’s going on in our lives. They want to bring the grandchildren home to Grandma’s house to get spoilt. They want to see if there are any tasty delights in the fridge and any chips in the cupboard.

And I am determined to keep shining my light for them. I want them to be able to come to me for guidance and advice and prayer. I want them to know that although I’m not in the boat with them anymore, they are in my heart and in my thoughts constantly.

When things are looking dark and the waves are threatening their boat, I want them to see the lighthouse. I want them to know the light will always be on.