The Things that take you by surprise

It is 4:14 am on Wednesday, July 13th. My morning song is ‘When We Were Young’ by Adele (what an achingly poignant song that the Universe decided to plant in my head this morning).

Today is launch day.

Today my brand-new business goes ‘live’.

Today is the day when I take all my secret hopes and dreams and launch them into the world and say, ‘hey, here’s my baby, do you love it as much as I do?’

What if the answer is ‘no’ and nobody responds to my invitation to build a strong community of Wise Women who are looking for a different kind of afternoon than the one our grandmothers had?

What if the answer is ‘yes’ and I am inundated with so many clients that I can’t keep up?

What if?

Those unanswerable questions are certainly on my mind and in my heart this morning.

However, there is something even more pressing that is tugging at my sleeve, and, as I turn my attention to the tender tug, I am also reaching for the Kleenex.

The keys under my fingers are blurring so I need to let the tears wash over me and then I can unpack this latest wave of emotion that hit so unexpectedly yesterday afternoon.

I got an email from the high school the other day to let me know that Graduation Folders are ready for pickup in the school office this week between 9:00 am and 1:00 pm. And I decided that, as I would be passing right by the high school on my way to a coaching session, that yesterday was the day to get that task checked off my ever-present to-do list.

When I pulled into the school parking lot, I glanced at my dashboard and determined that I had timed my errand perfectly to get the job done and get to work on time.

As I entered the school, I was hit with that familiar aroma of a high school, and, for a few brief seconds, I was taken back to my own high school days.

It occurred to me as I was hurrying down the long hallway that there might be a line of parents or grads waiting to collect their folders and my timing may not be quite as perfect as I had hoped.

When I opened the door to the school office, however, I was relieved to see that I was the only other person besides one school secretary in that rather overlarge room that is usually so full of chaos, ringing phones, and people.

The distinct lack of noise took me a moment to adjust to and, as the lone secretary greeted me, I said; “I am here to pick up my son’s grad folder” and gave her his name.

She sorted through and easily found Zach’s large, black folder, and, as she was bringing it over to me, time suddenly seemed to slow down and the significance of the moment landed.

As she handed me the folder I said, “wow, this is so strange”. And she said, “he’s your youngest, isn’t he?”

“Yes”, I said, “he’s my baby”.

And she said, “doesn’t it feel as if they started kindergarten yesterday?”

That simple question was all I needed to open the floodgates of emotion that I have been so carefully tending since Zach moved to Calgary 19 days ago to join his big brothers. And, as I stood there with tears threatening to spill over, I suddenly found myself watching a montage of my sons as they went off to kindergarten in their cute little outfits and brand-new shoes wearing their backpacks that were almost bigger than they were with the carefully-packed school lunches stowed inside.

So, there I was, right there in the middle of the school office, watching my own montage of home movies with tears streaming down my cheeks.

Oh, dear!

The secretary was lovely and handed me a box of Kleenex as she said, “congratulations mom, you did it”.

Congratulations mom.

It was so nice to hear those words of acknowledgment and love.

It was so nice to feel witnessed as I crossed yet another invisible finish line in my mothering journey.

Congratulations mom.

I thanked her for her kindness and for witnessing my achievement and hustled down the hallway to the safety of my car so that I could mop up my latest wave of emotion in privacy and get to my coaching session on time.

As I sat there drying my tears, I was reminded of a similar crying jag 15 years before when Zach took his very first steps away from me in September of 2007 when he started preschool.

It was a different vehicle in a different parking lot, but the feeling was exactly the same.

Equal parts joy and sorrow.

As parents, our job is to help our kids learn to walk, run, and then take those first steps away from us. What did not really occur to me is that one day, all those steps would add up and they would be ready to just keep on walking.

I am so proud of my three boys.

I am so proud that they kept walking and that their steps have found each other in a beautiful little house in Calgary. I love knowing that those great big man-shoes are all co-mingling in the front hall of their Alberta home along with all of the skateboards and helmets and backpacks (the picture above is my front hall circa 2012!).

I never thought I’d say this but…I miss the shoes.

I miss the front hall full of skateboards, scooters, helmets, and backpacks.

I miss tripping over the clutter and the chaos when I come in the front door.

I miss my boys.

And so, that small detour to complete an errand on my way to coaching yesterday afternoon turned out to be the crossing of yet another invisible finish line in my 24-year mothering journey.

Isn’t it funny, the things that take you by surprise?

So, this morning, as I am still mopping up the tears, I am holding all those other moms out there whose youngest children have just graduated from high school and have launched or will be launching their babies from their protective nests.

There is a cardinal singing his little heart out just outside my window offering me comfort.

He is reminding me that the experience I had yesterday is exactly why I am launching this brand-new business today. There are just too many aspects to this phase of our lives that could go unnoticed, unwitnessed, and unacknowledged.

I not only want to be witnessed…I want to witness.

I want to gather a community of Wise Women so that we can bear witness to these invisible finish lines and watershed moments that are so much a part of closing the arc of the morning of our lives.

Whether it is launching children from our nests, packing up offices we have been working in for decades, dealing with an unexpected diagnosis, or moving to towns that suit us better, we are all experiencing transition at this stage of our lives…and it is as exhilarating as it is terrifying.

It is my belief that if we stand together to cheer, champion, and bear witness, we will have a better chance of launching afternoons that are full to overflowing with the passion, the purpose, and the meaning for which we are longing.

I just know in my heart that we are meant to do this together in a strong community of Wise Women. We are not wired to walk this alone.

It is still dark outside my window. The birds are awake and singing but the sun has not yet made its appearance in the eastern sky. I am being nudged to pause for a moment, pick up my cup of tea and just acknowledge the momentousness of this day. I am being asked to notice that, as one arc of my life has drawn to a quiet close, another arc is in the process of being launched.

And as the arc of the afternoon of my life is in the process of launching itself, so too is my brand-new business, this fledgling entity that will find its way in the world.

I have spent 54 years preparing for this moment, this day.

And now, finally, my life’s work is no longer gestating safely within the confines of my own body but will be born into the world to make its way.

And just like I have done with all three of my sons, I will love it, nurture it, and trust that it has all it needs to fly.

I thought I would feel excited this morning, but I actually feel kind of sad that the deep communion of the entity that I have been quietly nurturing and have not yet shared with the outside world will be born today and will immediately start to shift and change and grow away from me as it finds its own wings.

Oh, the things that take you by surprise…

All I can say is…fly, little one, fly. 💗