I’ve recently learned a secret. Perhaps the last on earth to know.
Adult children still require parenting.
On one hand, I’m really thrilled about this, as I’m not ready to be done.
On the other, I think it’s rude and a bit overwhelming.
In case your angels are still little, and you are thinking I’m horrible for having another hand of feelings other than joy, allow me to wearily continue.
Parenting adults sometimes looks like this –
Riding in the passenger seat, traveling at the speed of light. Which turns out to be exactly 96 mph on the highway. Glancing over to notice your precious Man-baby is driving with his knees and looking at his phone anchored on the dashboard. Instead of reaching for the ol’ faithful mom-gasp, you dig deeper for a calm voice and with white knuckles say, “Babe, you can drive 96 mph, and you can watch America’s Next Top Model. But, you may not do both at the same time.”
Luckily, the end result is them rolling their eyes, pulling over and giving you reign of the wheel. Because isn’t that what we are most comfortable with?
On the other hand…Parenting adults sometimes looks like a glimpse of pure sunshine.
Recently we met a large group of folks out for dinner. We happened to have all children in town for the evening and told them to stop by and join us. It was a casual dinner at a fun restaurant, where everyone can go order their own food at their own pace. We were settled in for the long haul, relaxing and visiting with friends as the boys joined us one by one. As they each came in our boys took their hats off, shook hands with the adults, made eye contact, smiled, and appropriate small talk. Angels sang as their parents inwardly rejoiced, for on this night, all boys remembered the manners taught to them.
As the evening went on, I kept overhearing a guy at the next table quoting scripture to his friend. A lot of it. His quoting voice was a little sharp and hard. He kept looking over at one of my handsome sons who has his own beautiful, unique style. This night’s attire could be categorized as “Homeless Chic” – an oversized t-shirt that could fit all the neighborhood children, shorts, layers of earrings and necklaces, complete with a bandana tied around his head as if he were about to head to an audition of the next Karate Kid remake.
I ignored the mans stares, figuring he was also a fan of Mr. Miyagi. I mean, who isn’t?
Another one of our boys came in, kindly saying hello to everyone before sitting down to eat. This darling of ours is a huge Man-child. He is 6’3” and works out like a beast. He also eats like one, reminding me often that I “don’t have to be hungry to eat” and other crazy things kids say these days.
The man at the next table ramped up the scripture quoting as he continued to stare at our family. This time I figured he was simply intrigued by the beautiful sleeves of tattoos down Man-Child’s huge arms, each one telling their own story. Stories that belong to the sweet soul those muscles carry around.
We ignored that man all night. His judgment, his self righteous bible quoting, the anger and irritation that radiated off of him, and the dirty looks he returned my smiles with. We focused on the friends who found the treasures these boys hold.
When we left, I couldn’t quit replaying the night in my head. Then I got mad.
Really mad.
And then I got sad.
Really, really sad.
I think the man believed he was doing right for the Kingdom. I believe he was quoting scripture as he understands it. I believe he was sticking close to his beliefs and faith, holding on to them with a clenched fist. Gripping his beliefs so tight that Jesus slipped right out of his fingers, as there was zero evidence that comes from a relationship with our Gentle Savor.. None of the softness that comes from knowing Him. No acceptance or love.
Jesus was present though. He was shining through all the decorations on our grown children. Their kindness. Their gentleness. Their willingness to drive in town, on their own gas, to eat with the parentals. Their obedience and manners. Their love. Their acceptance of themselves and everyone else at the table, old or not.
If Jesus had come in to eat and drink wine on tap, I can’t help but think he would have chosen to sit at the boys table.
To answer the question that covered every bracelet and bookmark from the 90’s – #WWJD?
#HWLF
He would love first. He always does.
What if that is all we had to do? Love, above all things.
It would definitely free up more of our time to parent.
Apparently that job never ends.
*There is an adult pictured above that I do not parent. He has two parents that have raised him, Chad helped for a few years and I am simply an extra that gets to enjoy him. I am the mom in this house though, therefore sometimes he gets grouped in with the others.
**Photo By Marlo Collins
