Prior to working as a Pastoral Associate for the church, I spent many years in Montessori education. We made this choice for our kids at a very young age, because we loved the philosophy of each child learning at their own pace, and discovering what they were passionate about.
Montessori is as much an education for the parents as it is for the kids, since it encourages parents to let children do things for themselves. My hubby and I had to become comfortable with letting our kids make mistakes or get frustrated without swooping in to constantly save the day for them.
Our kids came out of eight years of Montessori education with a grounded, compassionate view of the world and an enviable degree of independence compared to their peers. Today, at ages 16 and nearly 18, they do pretty well for themselves, balancing work and school, doing their own laundry, and saving and investing some of their own money. They are well on their way to adulthood.
But I have to confess, as thrilled as I am that my kids are so wonderfully self-sufficient, they will ALWAYS be my babies. The most natural response in the world for me is to protect and defend them and perhaps make their load a little lighter.
2020 has been rough on them: an abrupt end to in person school and their show choir competition season in the spring, followed by a summer of limits on who they could see and how close they could stand next to them, only to go back to school in the fall and take turns being quarantined while we rode out the holidays seeing none of our extended family.
They have been through a lot at a young age, and I can only offer so much wisdom because I’ve never lived through a pandemic either. So when in person classes resumed this year, I relished in the opportunity to do something for them that they’ve done for themselves from a very young age: pack their lunches.
It’s a little time consuming because they tend to like completely different things to eat. My son will eat PB&Js till the cows come home, but my daughter is not a sandwich fan, so I prep pasta or chicken Caesar salads for her insulated lunchbox. In those early morning hours as they are coming out of their sleep and preparing for another day of who knows what, there is something unexpectedly soothing for me (and for them) about making their lunches. Each small detail of the process, whether it’s washing up apples for him, or slicing up peppers for her, or makes me say, “Okay, THIS. This is something I can do to lighten their load, to make them feel nurtured, and give them something to count on in an increasingly chaotic world.”
Could they do it themselves? Sure.
Am I spoiling them a bit by doing it for them? Maybe.
But I learned from the best…my own mom. To this day, whenever we go to visit her and Dad in St. Louis, she makes sure everyone’s favorite foods are on hand, has bath towels folded and ready to go on our beds, and plays any game that any kid or grandkid of hers requests.
My favorite moments are when the two of us stay up late talking after everyone else has gone to bed. We snuggle up right next to each other on the couch, and even though I’m 50 years old and she’s 71, I still feel like her precious baby. Everything will somehow be okay when I’m in Mom’s embrace.
A friend of mine recently shared that when she wakes up in the middle of the night, she imagines placing herself in God’s lap and resting in that Love as she falls back to sleep.
That’s how my mom makes my feel. Even though I don’t physically crawl onto her lap, I am absolutely certain that I am resting in her love. I think the least I can do is pass that on to my own kids as well.
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