Spiritual woman. Spiritual man. Goddess. King. And especially — mother. This one is for the mothers of grown children.
I had a dream.
I was riding in a white van, sitting up high. We kept stopping to pick people up. I felt happy, at ease. I was reading, occupied. Every now and then I'd look up — soft chatter from the other passengers, fluffy clouds, a beautiful pastel sky. Like the road was up in the clouds.
Then the van stopped and a toddler got on. Three to five years old. No parent. No guardian. She walked on by herself, and everyone smiled like it was normal.
I was shocked. She came to the back and sat on the chair with me. Her clothes, her braided hair, her face — she felt familiar.
When she looked up, she looked like my oldest daughter and my youngest daughter combined.
I almost said both their names. She silenced me with a small movement of her head.
I reached to pick her up and put her on my lap. She said no. She was capable of taking care of herself. She just wanted to be near me. She wanted me to enjoy the ride.
I woke up weeping.
What This Dream Meant to Me
I miss the days when I could hug, kiss, and love on my children.
When they were small. When I could scoop them up. When a kiss on the forehead fixed everything. When they needed me in that way.
Now they're grown. 31, 28, 26, and 24. Out in the world. Going through things. Some of them in hard places with each other. Making choices I can't make for them.
I worry about them more than I can say.
But I've stepped back. I've given them to my Spirit Team. I've allowed things to unfold. I've let the Wheel of Fortune turn.
And then the dream came and told me something I needed to hear.
They don't need to be held anymore. But they still want to be near me.
For the Mothers of Grown Children
If you are a mother whose children are grown, you know this ache.
You know what it feels like to love someone so much that it hurts. To want to fix things you can't fix. To want to hold them when they don't want to be held. To watch them go through things in a cruel world and know that all you can do is be there.
Hear me.
They are capable of taking care of themselves. And they still choose to sit beside you.
That's the whole message.
You don't have to fix them. You don't have to manage them. You don't have to force the relationship.
You just have to be near. You just have to love them. You just have to let them know, in whatever way you can, that you are always here.
That's the assignment now.
And it's enough.
For My Children
If you are reading this, and you are one of my children, hear this from your mother.
I love you. No matter what.
Not because of what you do. Not because of what you've achieved. Not because of how you've behaved. Just because you're mine.
I am always here.
I don't need you to call every day. I don't need you to be perfect. I don't need you to fix your relationships. I don't need you to need me the way you used to.
I just need you to know that I am always near.
You are capable. You are whole. You are walking on your own. And I am proud of you in ways I can't put into words.
Sit beside me sometimes. Not because you need me. Because I love you.
And I'll enjoy the ride.
Closing
The little girl in the van didn't need to be held.
But she wanted to be near.
That's every child who's ever grown up.
That's every mother who's ever loved.
Sit beside me. That's enough.
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