It’s hard to remember what normal looked like before COVID. I’d just gotten used to my son being at college, daughter looking for apartments, and rarely seeing our high schooler. But now it’s been five months.
Five months since my husband drove to work. Five months since my speaking engagements were canceled. Five months of having my two and half adult children home (my “baby” will be 18 soon). Five months reminding them to wash their hands, not touch their faces, and other things I thought I’d already ingrained deeply in them.
Five months of parenting my adult children.
I’m reading a book called, “Doing Life with Your Adult Children: Keep your Mouth Shut and the Welcome Mat Out.” It’s an awful book with lines like, “Hard as it is, the role you play in your children’s lives must diminish in order for them to transition from adolescence to responsible adulthood” (p 24).
It’s difficult to adjust to new normals and new roles. Hard to accept I’ve been fired, I need to let my kids fail, and that they resent my unsolicited advice. But my new role reminds me of a consistent practice that’s helped me parent for twenty years.
Prayer.
It’s difficult in my own power to resist imparting my wisdom to my kids, especially if I’m worried about what they’re doing (or failing to do). Now, more than ever perhaps, I need to keep asking God for wisdom, discernment, patience, and self-control.
The bright side of losing my job? As I ask God to help me listen more than speak and pray more than preach, I will hopefully be someone my children will want to be around, get (occasional) advice from, and see in me and want to emulate my biggest prayer for them:
An unwavering dependence on Christ, for the people they love most.
