Fall is one of my favorite times of the year. My family and I travel a lot during the fall for sports and to visit family. I, being the control freak of the family, am typically always behind the wheel. Oftentimes on a long drive, while the rest of the family is sleeping, I turn my worship music on full blast and take in my surroundings. One of the first things I always notice are the trees. Whether we are on the Natcher headed to Bowling Green, 1-65 headed to Louisville, or Highway 431 to Tennessee, I always notice the colors of the trees.
In early fall, I notice the few brave trees accepting their fate with confidence. They stand there boldly surrounded by familiarity. I often wonder what I can learn from them. How can I welcome change with such boldness in my own life? My oldest daughter is 10. What a weird stage to observe. You watch your own “baby” become this awkward pre-teen searching for her own familiarity. You watch her struggle with emotions she has never experienced before, while also tackling the challenge of those emotions as her mom. You yourself are struggling with all the fine lines of parenting. When to show grace. When to discipline. When to preach. And when to just listen.
I have been teaching for 13 years. I have seen my students change right before my eyes. I, myself, have changed tremendously over the course of my life. But, the truth is, I have never experienced this change from a parent’s perspective. I can ask all the right questions and read all the right books but nothing has prepared me. As I have been working to navigate this time of our lives, I have often found myself thinking about those trees. How they welcome change.
How can I welcome this change? The only way I can really fathom welcoming a change of such significance in both her life and mine is to do just that, welcome it.
We have spent the past year of her life reading. We started with The American Girl Doll series when she was 8 years old. Every time she had reading homework, she read it. On the way to church, ball games, the grocery store; she read it. We spent the last two years of her life preparing and “welcoming” the change that we knew would be inevitable. The communication between her and I is completely open. We have had numerous talks about “the talk” in ways that were both comfortable to her and myself. She asks the questions she wants answered, without fear. And I answer them, in that same boldness.
It is easy to sit back and let change happen around you. By the middle of fall, my drives look very different. I still blare my worship music and take in my surroundings. But this time, I don’t see the sprinkles of color. Color is all I see. Every tree has by now accepted its fate and jumped into its new season of boldness. I wonder how long they tried to hold on to their green leaves? How long did they try to hold onto “familiarity?” The truth is: it wasn’t an option for me. To sit back and watch the change happening around me and refuse to accept it. To try to avoid the inevitable. To watch as the world around her teaches her about herself and “changes” her. No, I refuse to sit back and allow change to intimidate me. My job as a mother is to protect my children, but only from the things I can. Unfortunately, the changing seasons in life are not something that I have control over.
My advice to any parent or guardian dealing with the changes of the seasons around you and within your own children, is to stand bold. Just like the scattered colored trees along my drive, welcome the change as an opportunity. Open up the communication in your home to tackle all topics head on. Talk. About everything. Don’t allow the change to occur and not be a part of it. Take control and stand bold in the change. Remember, by the end of the season, every tree on my drive eventually had to shed its familiarity to make way for a new, brighter future. Just like those lone trees at the beginning of fall, standing bold in their beauty, accept change immediately, so its beauty lasts longer.