A Family that Grows

A family thatgrows

Photo by Beverly Demafiles Photography

ROBIN LEE

I could see a tiny speck of green out of the corner of my eye. A wisp of a blade was stretching toward the sun.

“Grow, baby, grow,” I whispered. I planted that

seed, against all hope, in a graveyard of grass smothered by weeds. My husband was skeptical. He was reasonably convinced the effort was

wasted.

“If I don’t spread any seeds there will (for sure) be nothing but weeds,” I proclaimed. I knew it was right when I said it, but I ignored its implications. He noticed the baby sprout first and pointed it

out.

“Your grass is growing.”

Hope stirred. My chest tightened just a bit as I thought to myself, “If planting seeds can produce new life in the wasteland of my front lawn, what could happen if I began to sow seeds in the daily world around me?” Stunned by my visceral

reaction, my thoughts began to whir.

This last year brought death, disease, debt, anddoubt.

There are a million things we have celebrated and would not change; a thousand changes we are so glad we made; and yet there are moments when their light dims, shadowed by the dozens of places we feel powerless or stuck.

The darkness of this world desires to devour my

family. The dimness of some of our own mistakes sometimes helps it along, but that germinating spore shouted this reminder to me: I am completely in charge of the seeds I choose to sow.

My middle child is in her first year of college. She made the dean’s list and is navigating Vermont’s snow and ice. I am remarkably impressed by that since she spent most of her days a half hour from the beach in California and her final year before university by the lakes of East Texas. I love her

resilience!

I want to pay attention and give voice to the things in my family I admire.

If I cultivate a garden of admiration, what will itharvest?

What do we respect? Who do we look up to?

As my oldest is now an adult, and my middle is becoming an adult, I find myself longing to be a person they will admire. I want to be a family that

grows, together as a unit and independently aswhole, thriving people.

The seasons of my life are always shifting, sometimes without my permission. I treasured the season of newborn babies. I loved the slow, deep breaths of the scent of their heads snuggled just beneath my chin. I rejoiced every time their little arms were lifted triumphantly over their heads as their little feet curled up, stretching so big. “You grew an inch with that one, didn’t you?” I would always ask.

My babies always seemed to be happiest in the middle of the night. God graced me with the ability not to care that it was the middle of the

night. I just loved the smiles. I ache, missing those

days. For me they were simpler: I am really, really good with babies. I can calm their cries; soothe their worries; snuggle them to a relaxed state of dreamy bliss.

The older people are not so simple because a bottle of warm milk is no longer the best cure. If I tried to put them in a warm bath with a ducky

towel, they would resist violently. I ask my son to climb in bed and snuggle, but he's 28 now and thinks that's weird.

Do you want to know what the worst part of parenting older kids is for me? I can no longer control the influence of the outside world, and that brings me to tears. I hate so much of what is happening around me.

According to the World Health Organization, by

2020, depression will be the second leading cause of death in the world. Suicide is an epidemic that crosses all bounds. “Good” families — families that spend time together, invest in teaching their kids values and compassion, and are engaged and connected — have lost kids to mental illness and

depression. Self-aware parents are looking around wrestling with the truth that if it can happen to

them, it can happen to us.

Likewise, the opioid epidemic has touched every person I know. Gone are the days when those who overdosed were people in alleys, the ones who beat their wives and kids and lived lives riddled with bad decisions.

Today we are burying kids whose lives were full of love and promise, but who made one bad decision

— to try heroin that first time — and everything spiraled from there. I preferred the days when those problems happened somewhere else.

While it sometimes feels like no family can escape, we are not void of hope. Inspired by the little green pods just outside my front door, this thought moves me forward: We can sow seeds.

This shift in perspective has helped me move from panic for my kids to joy in celebrating who they

are. I have taken deliberate, considered steps in behavior and it is bearing fruit.

First, and (for me) the most difficult, was choosing to relentlessly leave the outcomes to God. As a woman of Christian faith, I believe God is sovereign.

However, I don’t always live as though he is. I negotiate in my mind that “if I do this, that is guaranteed to happen.” I really would love to control everything, but I am not in control of the

results. I am in control of the seeds I sow. The harvest is the Lord’s. With open hands, I am learning to accept the outcomes he gives.

Second, I have purposed to diligently look for the

good. My grown kids are beyond any hope that nagging will be beneficial. They have taken in more than enough words of instruction over the

years, so I have decided (for this season) to ignore anything I think they should/could/ought to change and notice only the things I find unique,

remarkable, and praise-worthy. This process is turning into a surprising and joyful endeavor.

I am thrilled with what I am seeing.

First, I started to notice the harvest of seeds we had previously planted. Paying attention to how funny they are is a crop. We planted those seeds. We have always laughed as a family. We listened to the same jokes over and over, chuckling every time. ("What do you call something that tastes like corn, but isn’t corn?" "Cornfusing.")

Listening to them talk about classical works of literature or post on Facebook about their favorite poet is one, too. My kids grew up surrounded by thousands of books and enjoyed read-alouds from

infancy. They are living some of the values we instilled in them when they were young, and it is beautiful to watch.

When I see the good, I tell them. I have never believed false compliments or niceties to be

beneficial, so my kids know that when I praise

them, I mean it. For good or ill, I am not one to blow smoke. Compliments either say something to

them, or they don’t, but it is not because they think I am insincere.

The glorious result is that observation by observation I am building a foundation of appreciation for who they are.

Finally, I have purposed to pray with greater

intention. I am not the world’s greatest pray-er. When I do pray, I can connect with the Lord and find the words I want to say, but I often go without

praying. It does not come naturally to me to pray in a crisis or bubble over to pray during celebrations. Regardless of the situation, (for me) prayer is a

discipline. To help me in that discipline, I have written out prayers and posted them around my

house.

I wrote prayers on 3x5 cards, put them in my car, and taped them above the sink. I began typing out prayers in a journal on my computer. I chose specific Scriptures to read, like prayers, for my

family. Each day I plow forward, becoming more dedicated to prayer and more peaceful in the

midst.

I am encouraged by what the former pastor of a

large, Midwestern mega-church says: We should pray until we feel peace about what we are praying

about. I used to want to pray until I got what I

wanted; now I am starting to realize that peace IS what I want.

No matter who your kids are, their ages, or your struggles as a family, you can begin today to sow seeds for your future. You can be a family that

grows. Plant the garden of gratitude, admiration, and celebration you want to be the harvest of your

future. The seeds will take root. They will blossom and bloom and add color and variety in ways that will make you smile every time you notice their exquisite beauty. The exquisitely beautiful things are actually the family members you already

cherished.

ROBIN LEE Robin Lee is a recent Texas

transplant, wife to an airplanepart-inventing,manufacturedhome-selling man who keeps her in stitches, and mom to three beautifully unique kids who keep her on her knees. She lives near Tyler, Texas and loves to teach Bible Study, laugh, drink coffee with ridiculous amounts of flavored creamer, and nap. Find Robin at Robins-Corner.com.