The blessing and burden of love

The Boy returned from a study trip in Japan yesterday. He took two courses at Sophia University, but more importantly, had lots of time to experience the language and culture, and hang out in Tokyo with new friends. It was 10:30 or so by the by the time we got home and he was jet-lagged and exhausted, but in spite of this, he was excited to tell us about his adventures and share all the souvenirs he’d brought back.

We talked and talked about what he had loved there, what he had missed about home, and other trips he might like to take in the future. Europe! China! Korea! Third Dad and I couldn’t help offering suggestions, all designed to augment his studies and broaden his prospects in the future.

Later, as I happily looked at my Domo souvenirs (the cutest Domo as shogun post-its you will ever see and a very cute Domo tote bag), it occurred to me that now wasn’t the time to bombard the poor kid with ideas for future travel. Now was the time to let him absorb the experience he had just had, to digest it and integrate it into himself and his life plans. After he does that will be a better time to talk about what comes next.

I wonder how many times I’ve done that with my kids – you know, in my excitement to make the entire world possible for them, suggest things they might not really want to do that they end up doing anyway, to make me happy. I know they love Third Dad and me, and I know they take our words to heart. How many times, I wonder, have they held back their own thoughts and desires to follow our suggestions?

When the kids were little, I really believed that parenting would be a piece of cake by the time they reached this age. On some levels it is, of course; the day-to-day struggles with homework and eating veggies and all the other stuff of parenting young kids is behind us. But on other levels I realize that, God willing I should make it to 80 or so, I’ve got the same amount of time to spend with them as adults.

And that, I realize, will be an equally great challenge. That punch-in-the-guts love we all feel for our kids doesn’t end when they reach adulthood, but our reaction to it – scooping them up and covering them with kisses and hugs – isn’t the right response to it anymore. They have their space, and Third Dad and I need to learn to respect it, physically, intellectually and emotionally.

I don’t want to smother my kids with the best of intentions. I don’t want to overload them with ideas and plans that only complicate their ability to find their own paths. Love, I am coming to realize, can be a burden, just as it can be a blessing. Learning to express my love for my adult kids without silencing their own voices will be my challenge in the coming years.