Tomorrow is my son’s first day of high school. Next week my littlest starts Kindergarten and her big sister seventh grade. Wow. Huh. Just sitting here wallowing in these statements of fact. Yup. Time marches like a son of a b’ and the jumble of emotions I expected to burst forward whilst on the precipice of being the mother of a high schooler has not disappointed. I have much to be grateful for with school getting back in session: my time will free up. I will be able to work on my book and I will not be interrupted millions of times mid-thought by someone asking for a ride, or money, or the ‘good granola bars,’ or a ‘midnight snack’ at 10 am. I can schedule work and meetings outside of my home during the daylight hours. I will have time to myself, for myself, to focus and concentrate on and deliver my purpose.
Several months ago when my son learned that he had been accepted into an exclusive charter high school he wept with joy and relief. We all did. The stars aligned and he got in! He got in! We were abuzz. The world was his oyster! The congratulations piled in but after a few days, once the excitement died down, I noticed my son had grown anxious and upset. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Nothing… It’s just… nothing,” he mumbled. And I mean mumbled. This went on for a few days - grumpy attitude for him and me questioning his mood - until finally he answered: “It’s just… the school is far away. I don’t know anyone. It’s just a totally different type of school…” and on and on with the complaints, the worries. It was rather amazing. All he had talked about for a year was how much he wanted to get into this school. He worked so hard in every area of his schooling to be the most attractive candidate for acceptance. He ate, slept and drank his desire. He was prepared. He blew the doors off the place in his auditions and he got in. So what was all this noise he was making about the school? Why the doubt?
And then I got it.
It was fear. He was afraid. Not of school or making friends, not really. He was afraid of his power. He got a big, fat letter from the universe informing him that he has the power to achieve his goals and be happy in his life - and it took his breath away. He wanted something so badly that he worked and dreamed and he made it a reality. He manifested it. He got what he wanted through focus and awareness and it scared the living hell out of him. The stakes had never been so high for him. This power, his power, was daunting, scary, risky, unsafe. He wanted to turn around and climb back inside his safe cocoon of wanting something out of reach rather than the responsibility of holding the golden ring in his hand. What now? I'm sure he wondered, oh my God, what now…?
I recognized his fear because I’ve had the same reaction myself. Time and again. Fearful of my power. Afraid of change and the unknown and the absolute awesomeness that resides within me. Wow. Huh. Apples dropping from trees and so forth.
So we talked about it. And over the next few days he became more used to the idea of his school and change and his limitless power and I’m happy to say he will be skipping off to the train station with a smile on his gorgeous face. He is so brave. And remarkably he is getting the power memo so early in his young life. I’m grateful and in awe and drawn like a magnet to his strength like I know so many others are and will be and thusly he is in the position he is - a new student at a fantastic school that will celebrate and nurture all that he is. And yet, his power and independence coincide so impossibly with my own journey on the path to change. To let him go a little I need to summon strength from the depths of my well. I have always dreamed of being a mother that raises strong empowered young people so they can go out and spread love and be of service in this world. And with that I’m being called to loosen my grip on the reins. I am breathing deep and letting go. I believe the world to be a beautiful place, all the more loverly with these three beings here to help spread love not hate. My power, too, is awesome and I will rest easy in that.
So, world, with so many voices raised this week and getting attention because of their message of hate and intolerance - I won’t be afraid. I share with you my most precious gifts - loving and colorblind. These little creatures are moving up and out of here and into their places in the world, and you know what? The world is their oyster. Mine too. All of ours. It ain't over 'til it's over. This phase of parenting is as exciting as it emotional and humbling as it is empowering. I am learning and re-learning so much. Our responsibility as parents, as people, is awesome. Our capacity to love is limitless. Our ability to heal - abundant. And to hell with fear and hate - that's where it belongs.