Identity

I have been going to a Sunday School class at church this Summer that I have really enjoyed. I am usually downstairs in the preschool wing teaching 2-3 year-olds to sing "Jesus Loves Me." I love that too, but sometimes it is nice to sit in an adult class.

This past Sunday we talked about identity and transitions. Most humans do not embrace change well. I would be first on that list. We wrap our identities up in different things. One example he gave was the woman who has a husband with an important career who works long hours and kids who go off to college and is left with an empty nest. Who is she then? Where is she left? I immediately felt defensive. Well, huh, I am super proud of my husband. I have supported him every step of the way. I am his number one fan. I honestly think he is the bees knees.

I am super proud of my boys. Listening to my 12 year old play Ode to Joy on the piano is almost more than this Mother's heart can take. Watching the way Will treats people and respects others makes me so proud. Seeing my 9 year old have intensity and faith beyond his years is amazing to me. Ryan would step in front of a moving train for his brother. No questions asked.  They are both smarter than either one of their parents and seem to have gotten the best traits and qualities of all their family members. Grandparents included.

When I was about 8 years old I remember wanting to be a ballerina. I took dance for many, many years with my best friend, Missy. Neither one of us had a lick of coordination when it came to dance, but good gracious, we had a blast.  In high school I shadowed a female attorney on Career Day because I wanted to go to Law School and be a lawyer. I still think that would have been a good move for me but by 1998, I just wanted to graduate with a college degree. The thought of more school and more paper-writing was atrocious to  me. In the mean time, I also remember wanting to join Greenpeace and save the whales. Wanting to go into journalism and be the next Anna Wintour or Jane Pauley. Wanting to get a Ph.D in Southern Literature from Vanderbilt. Wanting to go to Ole Miss and get a Masters in Southern Culture. (Because there is always such a high demand for experts in Southern Studies.)  In the end, after I met my future husband, all I wanted to do was be a Mother.

For better or for worse, I promise I won't lay on my deathbed and wish I had done anything else. My life could end tomorrow. I have already seen too many friends my age diagnosed with cancer. I promise I won't think: "man, I really shouldn't of wasted my life raising two boys to be men." "I really should not have loved them so much." All that time driving people to baseball, soccer, school, and church activities. All those wasted mornings packing lunches, walking my dogs and folding laundry. All the hours spent at school, in my kitchen making cookies, prayers prayed, friends counseled. All the bike rides after dinner. All the days spent at the pool.   No, I'm good.  So, yeah, at 39, staring 40 in the face, I'm good with my identity. Thanks anyway, though.