Weaving

Grass, bits, leaves, twigs

A home in high branches

Life under wing, vulnerable

Yet safe

I’m removed from nature in our ninth floor apartment, our nest in the sky, yet as I wrote I heard chirping. I rushed to the window. Three sparrows fluttered and danced before me, all energy and wings, then faded into the morning sky. 

I wish I could press pause on such moments. 

I wish I could press pause on life. I’m at my sweet spot – all three kids still home in my nest, yet fairly independent. My energy is no longer exhausted caring for their needs – they’ve become a source of companionship and fun. And when work needs to be done, the five of us make quite a force.

I can’t keep them here, I know. Yet I want to hold on to this in between time. 

“There are years in which childhood and adulthood are blended together. These are years in which we hold onto parts of childhood with one hand as we stretch out to grasp parts of adulthood with the other…” Stanley F. Schmidt.

For the adolescent, these are exciting years, for the mother, a mix of emotion.  

I thought of this as I painted the nest, imagining mother bird weaving grass, bits, leaves and twigs. And as I wove this painting together I remembered how, so many years ago, I prepared my nest for our own firstborn.  

Then came his arrival and a joy I had never known. 

My days came alive. And my art came alive with portraits of my newborn son. When he was joined by his brother and then his sister, and my days were filled with changing diapers, kissing bumps, and cooking meals, I moved my art to the back burner. I was putting one dream on hold to live out another. My creativity flowed into raising and homeschooling my kids.

My kids filled my days with life. They also stretched me in ways I didn’t know were possible. At the start of each new school year, new demands made me wonder, “Can I be all they need me to be?” I doubted I could, yet each year I strived to grow in new ways. As I fought with my own deficiencies, I modelled to my kids how to strengthen their wings. 

And they did strengthen and grow. I felt it most this fall. While they still need plenty of help with school work, their increasing independence freed some of my time. I set up and rearranged my paints. Then waited for their call. I helped and helped some more, and as they returned to their work, I returned to painting.

I’m established in the dining room, the heart of our nest and I watch them fly to and fro as I create. When they were young they cried when I left the house, now I can run an errand and return home, my absence unnoticed. 

My life is shifting. My role is changing. And so I’m asked a new question. “Do I have what it takes to let go?” The question itself is like sandpaper on my heart. 

As I travel from one dream back to the other, there’s a new tenderness in my heart and I find comfort in creating art. I felt it as I painted this mama bird and her nest. They speak to me of all the good in my story. They tell of my role as mom. A role I wish I could hold onto. One that is ever changing and ever fulfilling.

Wings

Stretching, Gaining

Strength to fly, yet still by

My side gaining independence

Flight.