On Endings and Beginnings

Recently, as I reflected on my middle son’s graduation from high school, I had to admit to myself that my days of mothering young children are all but over. My husband and I have 3 sons; the oldest are 18 and 22. The youngest will soon be a teenager. Like many youngest children, my 12-almost-13-year-old is in some ways the most independent of the 3 having lived his childhood aspirationally mimicking his older brothers. The family culture of our faith and values is well known and established within him. Now, much of my, and my husband’s parental guidance is oriented around helping him apply those beliefs and values in his increasing spheres of independence. This can be a stressful process for everyone. Mistakes will be made.

In the midst of this transition, I’ve found myself inclined towards nostalgia for how our family functioned when the boys were younger and my role was of more central importance. Of course, I love watching them thrive in their growing independence, and my sons and I enjoy reminiscing about our family experiences. Telling stories about our family is part and parcel of helping them develop a strong internal sense of identity, and belonging. But I can’t deny my influence in their life is changing and I’m not always happy about it.

After being a follower of Jesus, and cultivating a Christ-centered marriage with my husband, nothing has shaped me quite like becoming a mother. And it is indeed something one becomes. There is no version of parenting that begins with a mother or father knowing how to do it. We just kind of– start, and often stumble through our various victories and failures along the way. In the midst of it all, we do our best to raise our children into adulthood. When, by God’s grace, we arrive at the moment (often much sooner than we’re prepared to recognize) our sons and daughters are of an age to be the primary decision-makers in their lives, then we as parents must engage the process of releasing them to their decisions. We must let them go.

Typing that last phrase takes my breath away. I’ve already launched one young adult, been through several major moves in my life, and ended and begun careers, yet this particular change continues to be one of the most challenging for me. It isn’t this way for everyone, and my goal is not to romanticize parenthood. Raising human beings is ridiculously hard work. However, even if you don’t share my perspectives or experiences of raising children, each of us has likely had to face the ending of an era within our lives. Whether it is a child’s high school graduation, or professional retirement, moving far from friends and family, or something else, beginnings and endings are native to the human experience. The familiar refrains of Ecclesiastes 3 come to mind,

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a tie to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance

a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to seek, and a time to lose;

a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

a time to tear, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence and a time to speak;

a time to love, and a time to hate
a time for war, and a time for peace. (ESV)

The inescapable reality in these words is the foreshadowing of human death. As my own late father used to say: “Life–none of us make it out alive” meaning, mortality is an ever-present and equalizing reality. We often quote Ecclesiastes 3 when we want to poetically acknowledge the passage of time, but the significance and meaning of the scripture is more than that. It acknowledges that with each ending we encounter in life, we experience a small death that foreshadows the final natural death we all face. The good news is, just as the natural death of each of us who follows Jesus does not equal eternal death, neither do the endings within our human experiences mean the absence of new beginnings and new life. No matter our circumstances this is the reality offered to all who claim hope in Christ.

Of course, embracing this reality in practical terms is difficult, and I don’t have any easy answers or advice for how it could be otherwise. And if I’m honest, personally, I am exhausted by all of the spiritual pontificating we Christians are in the habit of falling into when it comes to the inevitable hardships of life. Maintaining a Christ-centered disposition in all moments not only requires tremendous faith and conviction for its rewards, it guarantees our discomfort. In John 12:24 Christ himself describes the nature of life in him as a grain of wheat that only produces more wheat if it falls to the ground and dies.

All realms of life in Christ follow this logic of flourishing. If we want to live, then we must die. If we want to grow to the highest, heights within our vocation, we must be humble and low. If we want our sons and daughters to share the highs and lows of their lives with us– we must raise them, and joyfully release them to discover the security of the Father for themselves. And in all of these moments we must rest in the one who is our eternal security and has good plans for our own new beginnings.

Christian Living, FamilyMaggie UlmerJune 2, 2023Comment