Let It Be

When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
–Let It Be, the Beatles

Is there any mother whose heart has not been broken by her children? By loving them so much, by worrying about them, by losing them, by finding them again?

One mom I know has a child with leukemia. Another has a child on drugs. Another’s child died in a fire. A friend’s daughter has morphed into bridezilla. Another has a teenager who is, well, a teenager. I have two sons with autism.

What were we thinking when we had these kids? I have never regretted for a moment having them, but I have marveled sometimes that I don’t. Surely I would regret anything else in my life that had caused me such heartache. Would any of us, if we really really knew what we were getting ourselves into, have knowingly walked into this soul pain?

Amazingly, the answer, I think, is yes. Even Mary, who knew more sorrow than many mothers, would have said again to the angel who came to tell her God’s plan, “Let it be to me according to your word.”

Years ago, when I was married and thinking that it was a good time for me to have kids, a friend with two young ones of her own passed along this advice. “Don’t have kids until you can’t stand not to.” Although the time seemed optimum, the truth was that I could stand not to, and so I waited.

Some years later, single and working overseas, adding children into my life seemed ridiculous. And yet, the drumbeat of desire beat ever faster and louder until the yearning could no longer be denied. And so I adopted James, a newborn. I flew back to the US to get him. My first week as a mom was spent at the US Passport Agency getting him a passport, and then at the Thai embassy to get him a visa so I could take him on an airplane for 27 hours home to Bangkok. Not the typical entry into motherhood! The years brought four more children – one a toddler, and three teenagers.

Where to look for guidance? Even after all these years, I think the best parenting model I’ve ever seen was a dog. My dog had seven puppies in the whelping box I had made for her in the corner of my kitchen. It wasn’t long before I recognized a pattern. When her puppies were sleeping all in a heap, she used the time to catch up on her rest, too. As they began to stir and whine for food, instead of responding to them right away, she would do a cursory check on each and then leave the box and go to her food dish. There, she would eat calmly as the yelping grew more frantic and insistent. After eating, she would drink some water and then go out in the back yard to attend to her own needs. Only then did she return to the box, and give herself over to her puppies’ mad scramble for a place at the table.

I never saw her short tempered with them until it was time to wean them. This she accomplished with little fanfare. She simply walked away from her little pack of puppies as they jumped after her trying to latch on. She sternly but gently nipped at the ones who didn’t get the message that the kitchen was closed. She didn’t stop loving them, but she let them know it was time to grow up.

I didn’t follow her model entirely. I have sometimes been a bit more like the bird I just watched outside my window as I sit here typing. A baby robin is sitting in the rhododendron and the parents keep flying up to it and feeding it. Even after the babies are out of the nest, I see the parents continuing to feed their adolescent offspring. If you have seen a baby robin, it has the perpetually frowning, disgruntled expression we would recognize on many teens’ faces. And yet the parents still spend their days catering to its hunger. There were times when I had to remind myself to be more of a dog and less of a bird.

The day to day needs of my children are no longer my responsibility. Letting go is hard. Letting it be, as the song advises, is often even harder. They have their own lives now, two of them with babies of their own. They do sit on the branches occasionally, chirping for some parental TLC, which I am happy to provide.

But the heart never heals, does it? It stays broken open and tender, vulnerable to the joy and the sorrow of loving someone that much. That’s why, in my darkest moments as a mother, when the pain seems too much to bear, I turn to Mary, a mom who understands, and I hear her whispered words of wisdom, “Let it be.”

I think I must let go. Must fear not, must be quiet so that my children can hear the Sound of Creation and dance the dance that is in them. –Russell Hoban

PS–I’m sure fathers’ hearts break just as easily, and I do not mean to exclude them. But my experience is as a mom, so I write from that place today. Nor do I mean to exclude people who do not have children. There are many ways to love, and all of them, at their deepest level, break our hearts wide open.

related posts: Mary was a Real Mother; My Plan B Family