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Rock Solid Love
© 1999,
by Lisa M. Roberts
- A new year, new classes, new teachers,
new book bags, new sneakers, new agenda, new workload, new work
schedule, new work goals. As an EP,
my work life shifts to the rhythm of school life, and each school
year brings new transitions and milestones with it. Right now,
on the cusp of the new millenium -- and a full year after the
launch of EP as an Internet community -- I feel perched
on top a small mountain looking forward, looking backward, looking
up, looking down. I know it will just last a moment before I
descend back into the nitty-gritty day-in, day-out of it all,
but for this moment I do see a panaromic view of life...even
after life...swirling around me...
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- In this corner of the country
Hurricane Floyd swept us all into the new school year with theatrical
momentum, peaking with an ominous air of high drama last Thursday
night, a school delay Friday morning, and a fresh, glorious wind
welcoming the weekend in. Fortunately, as a family we are now
basking in the wake of that glorious wind as every child is successfully
transitioning into the rhythm of the new year, but it was definitely
a stormy first couple of weeks of school. And now that the air
has cleared a bit, a whole new perspective has settled in for
all of us.
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- First, my 12-year old daughter
caught herself a cold with her first big homework assignment
and worked herself up into a day-long sneezing fit in school
("Mom, it was so embarrassing!"). She couldn't seem
to get herself a good night's sleep all week until I yielded
and kept her home one day to "catch up." Then, to pull
my youngest son *away* from his first classroom during pre-school
orientation brought on a scene I'd rather not discuss...(let's
just say the screech-whine is still ringing in my ear).
Finally, we received a call from our fourth grade son's teacher
that he had been acting up all week and landed himself in the
principal's office (first week of school!), working himself up
into a frenzy of fears and defiance. After long talks with the
teacher, principal, each other and our son, my husband and I
were able to get him to stop "sweating the small stuff"
and focus on the bigger issues, and now he's back on track.
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- Against this backdrop of back
to school turmoil I have begun my new position as the "Home
Office Expert" and weekly columnist for a new media company
for women. With all of us stepping in and out of each other's
new fall schedules, it's been quite an adjustment.
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- Last week in the middle of all
this I had a dream about my late father that couldn't have been
more symbolic if I pulled it out of my consciousness. It was
one of those dreams where you are watching yourself in action
and commenting on the sidelines (like Scrooge and his ghosts).
In this dream I was watching from a distance (with someone at
my side, don't know who) while my father and I were working on
a kind of exercise together. We were standing on the ledge of
a cliff, where he had tied one end of a rope around his waist
and the other around mine. The "exercise" had me jumping
off the cliff, swinging myself around the edge of the mountain
and then working with my father as he pulled me back up by tugging
on the rope. He was coaching and encouraging me, and I felt myself
getting stronger each time I jumped, doing it over and over again
until I "got it right."
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- Then suddenly I saw from a distance
that my father was getting weaker, and when I looked at him closely
I saw that he was physically ill, as he was right before he died
last summer. I realized he would only have the strength to pull
me back up one last time. Before I jumped, I hugged him tight
and said, "Even when you can't pull me up anymore, I will
still feel your strength."
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- Days after the dream I was driving
my son William home from a birthday party, just the two of us
in the van. William spotted my perturbed face in the rear view
mirror and asked if there was something wrong. I happened to
be deep in thought over the dream, and so I shared it with him
in detail. By the time I finished I was in tears and said, "And
that's what I want you to remember too, William. If ever you
feel like you're jumping off into the unknown, into a scary place,
remember you are not alone. Your father and I are here for you,
no matter what. We'll work with you to pull you back to a safe
place."
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- William was quiet for awhile
and I wondered how much he had understood what I was trying to
say, what my dream symbolized. Finally, my ever-practical, ever-grounded,
ever-perceptive child said, "Mommy, that must have REALLY
been a DREAM, because if you jumped off a cliff with a rope attached
to both you and Grandpa, then Grandpa would have fallen off too."
Then he thought some more and added, "Unless Grandpa was
a rock."
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- Well yes, William, he was --
and still is. You do understand. A parent's love is rock solid.
It is strong and steady and unmoving, and a child who is connected
to a parent with a love so solid could throw himself or be thrown
off an emotional cliff and still feel intact. He could take risks
and still feel secure, he could leap without pulling everyone
else down with him. Even now I look for my father in my everyday
life, and sometimes I find him in the spaces between science
and faith, awareness and sleep, memory and foresight. Sometimes
I find him in my pre-schooler's furrowed brow and in my pre-teen's
hand wave as she laughs off a comment, or in the wind and sunlight
behind a tree's green summer leaves, or sometimes he's on the
tip of my voice or in the curve of my fingers as I type. But
always, always I feel my father with me when I need him to be,
and not once since he passed on from this earthly world have
I ever felt abandoned. It's as if the rope between us is as strong
as ever.
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- Now I look around me and see
the rope that is tied from my waist to each of my children's.
When Jessica develops a cold under the spell of homework stress,
I find myself tugging on that rope. When William swells with
feelings of social or intellectual incompetency -- even though
success is beside him on every turn -- I tug. When Jimmy gasps
for air during an asthmatic episode, or when a friend plays push-pull
(you're my friend/you're not my friend) with him, I tug. And
when Thomas falls out of his bed in mid-night, or can't find
the words to express a fear or frustration, I tug yet again.
This is what I can give to them, it is what my father and mother
gave to me.
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- As children we don't quite see
the view from the top, but as adults we can see it all. On the
top of our small mountains we learn that the jump-pull, love-tug
exercise we worked on with our parents all those years did indeed
make us strong, and that we in turn can coach our children to
build emotional endurance too, bit by bit.
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- As Entrepreneurs may each of us jump into our challenges with confidence
and skill, and as Parents may we pull our children up with commitment,
conviction and compassion. And when we are jumping purposefully
into the unknown at the same time we are pulling others through
theirs, may we remember that after the storm comes extraordinary
fresh air...and if we look for it, a clear view from the top
as well.
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- Lisa Roberts is the mother of four,
owner of The
Entrepreneurial Parent, LLC and the author of How to Raise A Family &
A Career Under One Roof: A Parent's Guide to Home Business
(Bookhaven Press, 1997). Copies of her book are available for
purchase at EP
and through
Amazon.
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