I will never forget those stopping moments when we observed our three children enter their journey into adulthood.
They saw it as an exciting new adventure at the time, and were full of hope as they embarked on the road to fulfilling their dreams and aspirations.
Yet, we also sensed their feelings of anxiety and insecurity when they encountered the bewildering pitfalls, disappointments and challenges of a world that could sometimes be very unkind and cruel. So many difficult choices to make at such a young age and yes, we were always there to guide and advise. However, we also knew in our heart of hearts it was time to let go and allow them to make their own decisions and mistakes if need be, even though the temptation to protect and hold on was ever present.
And then there are the generational differences; perceptions about life and living that spring up out of nowhere and catch us by surprise. What do we do when they step away from the faith they once knew, or hold serious differences of opinion? How do we engage with their dating partners or their spouses and what about the times we find ourselves a little worried about how they deal with their children…our grand children?
A whole new world
My late wife, Debbie, and I soon realised that what had become a whole new world for our adult children had also become a whole new world of discovery for us. The changing dynamics in our relationship with the boys, who had now become men, turned out to be an intriguing and rather scary period of adjustment for us.
I was recently paging through a book, at the art studio of a friend, when I came across these beautifully written words entitled Loving with an Open Hand by renowned author, poet and columnist Ruth Sanford in the 1978 Wantagh-Seaford Observer. Although a little long I feel this is one of those instances when it is important to quote her captivating little column in full.
Ruth Sanford writes: This week as I talked with a friend I recalled a story which I heard this summer.
A compassionate person, seeing a butterfly struggling to free itself from its cocoon, and wanting to help, very gently loosened the filaments to form an opening. The butterfly was freed, emerged from the cocoon, and fluttered about — but could not fly. What the compassionate person did not know was that only through the birth struggle can the wings grow strong enough for flight. Its shortened life was spent on the ground; it never knew freedom, never really lived.
I call it learning to love with an open hand. It is a learning which has come slowly to me and has been wrought in the fires of pain and in the waters of patience. I am learning that I must free one I love, for if I clutch or cling, try to control, I lose what I try to hold.
If I try to change someone I love because I feel I know how that person should be, I rob him or her of a precious right, the right to take responsibility for ones own life and choices and way of being. Whenever I impose my wish or want or try to exert power over another, I rob him or her of the full realisation of growth and maturation; I limit and thwart by my act of possession, no matter how kind my intention.
I can limit and injure by the kindest acts of protecting and protection or concern over-extended can say to the other person more eloquently than words, You are unable to care for yourself; I must take care of you because you are mine. I am responsible for you.
As I learn and practise more and more, I can say to one I love, I love you, I value you, I respect you and I trust that you have or can develop the strength to become all that it is possible for you to become if I dont get in your way. I love you so much that I can set you free to walk beside me in joy and sadness.
I will share your tears but I will not ask you not to cry. I will respond to your need, I will care and comfort you but I will not hold you up when you can walk alone. I will stand ready to be with you in your grief and loneliness but I will not take it away from you. I will strive to listen to your meaning as well as your words but I shall not always agree.
Sometimes I will be angry and when I am, I will try to tell you openly so that I need not resent our differences or feel estranged. I cannot always be with you or hear what you say for there are times when I must listen to myself and care for myself, and when that happens I will be as honest with you as I can be.
I am learning to say this, whether it be in words or in my way of being with others and myself, to those I love and for whom I care. And this I call loving with an open hand. I cannot always keep my hands off the cocoon, but I am getting better at it!
No need to manipulate
Ruths column is a delightful personification of unconditional love, which in some ways is a portrayal of the way in which the Holy Spirit leads us. The Holy Spirit is our strength and comfort leading and strengthening us as we walk on our journey through life, in the good times and bad. However, he does not try to coerce or control us. If he did then we would no longer be free moral agents.
Thus, the inspirational work of the Holy Spirit in our lives becomes a role model of how we can love one another, with an open hand, especially our adult children.
To simply be there for the ones we love, giving comfort and strength without feeling we need to manipulate them to our way of doing things or what we feel is best for them. In a sense we take away from their gift of choice when we try to force them into doing what we believe is best for them; and yes it might very well be the right thing for them; and yes it does hurt when we see them suffering. However, lets also not forget; what we think is best for them may not necessarily always be best for them.
The apostle Paul gives parents a word of wisdom in Colossians 3:21: Parents, do not embitter your children or they will become discouraged.
Freedom of choice the crucible of character
This does not mean we hold back from expressing our own thoughts and opinions regarding the circumstances that affect our children. The manner in which we do it is key. Nevertheless, the decision on the way forward still lies with them. Giving them the time and emotional space to process it all and as free moral agents take responsibility for their own lives. In essence, freedom of choice is the crucible in which character is deepened and ones true potential unfolds.
Ironically, allowing our adult children to experience this kind of freedom will in all likelihood bring them closer to us and in so doing create a far better climate for them to feel relaxed about seeking our advice…with no strings attached.
It is about enjoying and appreciating our adult children for who they are, warts and all, without feeling that we have to change them. The ball is in their court on how they take their lives forward. My youngest son, Matthew, who is 23 years of age, spontaneously responded with the following words after reading the article:
If you love the butterfly set it free and let it fly.