My twenty-year-old daughter is facing some tough consequences because she made some poor decisions.
How it all plays out will determine if she can pursue a lifelong dream--or not.
Yes, I'm being vague. The actual details of who, what, where, when, why, and how are hers to tell.
Not mine.
In some ways, life was easier when my children were younger. If they made a mistake, I corrected them and life went on. Very rarely did mistakes have long-term consequences. Sure, sometimes I disciplined them. But I was never one of those "I'm going to ground you for the rest of your natural born days" kind of moms. Well, I come to think of it, I did threaten that one time.
But, as I said, my daughter is twenty years old. She is, for all intents and purposes, an adult. She doesn't even live at home anymore. (Although she does come back home to do her laundry!)
Here's what I'm learning as I walk alongside her through this crisis:
1. I cannot fix this for her.
I'm a mom. I want to fix things for my children. Sometimes when they were younger, I could. But even if I could fix this, it probably wouldn't be the right thing for me to do. My daughter is an adult and needs to figure this out for herself.
2. I cannot tell her what to do.
I had my season where I could say "Do this" or "Do that" or "Whatever you do, don't do that!" Now is the time that I keep my mouth shut and listen--allowing her to wrestle with what to do or not do.
3. I can listen and offer counsel--if my daughter asks for it.
I'm trying really, really hard to listen, listen, listen. If my daughter asks for my advice, I can offer it. But it is only advice--it is not a "Thou shalt" kind of statement.
3. I must love my child. No matter what.
I admit it: I'd like to give my daughter a very loud, overbearing piece of my mind. I'd like to say, "How could you?" But she already feels badly about all this. I do not need to say or do anything to make her feel worse.
Instead, I have told my daughter that I love her. I have told her that, no matter what, I am proud of her. I am trying to be a safe place for her. I'd rather offer her a shoulder to cry on than offer her a cold shoulder.
4. I must speak grace.
With tears in her eyes, my daughter said, "I'm sorry."
My reply? "You do not owe me an apology."
My daughter is not responsible for making me a happy mom or a proud mom.
Yes, I'm hurting--but it's not because she has done something to me. I hurt because my mother's heart feels my daughter's sadness.
I want to open my arms to my child and offer grace and love and support.
And I'll walk alongside her as she works her way through this. Respecting her choices.
Respecting her.
(December 2006) (
