The Grief We Don't Talk About
Parenting Teens and Living Losses
The Gathering Place is where I write about faith and how I see the world. A place where we can gather, encourage one another and perhaps even wrestle with ideas together as we seek to become better neighbors in this world. I’m so glad you’re here.
There is a vine of morning glories that has crept into my neglected garden bed (and a little bit into my heart). Actually, it’s crept into, and out of, and up, and around. They’re sort of unwieldy little beauties – so much so that many gardeners consider them a nuisance. But I have found them to be an unexpected gift as summer ends, and a new season begins. They greet me each morning at the foot of our worn and weathered deck stairs; so interesting to observe as they stretch over the stone border, choking out their weedy neighbors as they declare, well… their glory.
These blossoms only last a day. You wouldn’t necessarily know it because the vines are so productive. At sundown, they close their wide-shaped mouths forever, and new blooms greet me the following day, alive with promise and hopeful expectation. Every evening they wither, and each morning - new life.
With their heart-shaped leaves, they’ve been known to symbolize love, rebirth, and renewal; hope, and new beginnings, and fresh starts. It seems like an appropriate metaphor for this season of life that I find myself in: reimagining my faith, watching my teens stretch their not-so-little limbs toward adulthood, the birth of new projects for me. So many new beginnings, and lots of letting go. (I’m not always good at that.)
As we wind down our homeschool journey, I see that my role is changing. My job description is shifting - from “manager and CEO”, where I once made almost all of the decisions about my kids’ lives, to “guide” or “coach” as they develop more and more autonomy. Parenting has been, and is, the most challenging and sometimes heartbreaking, yet beautiful and rewarding call on my life.
I often tell my kids that they are my heart walking around in the world - my very best creations. And even as I say that, I know that they are not “mine.” They are their own unique beings, and my job is simply to love them and guide them. I watch with hopeful anticipation as they continue to explore their passions and learn more about themselves. I’ve done my part – teaching, supporting, advocating – allowing them to grow and mature at their own pace and encouraging their interests. And now I remain that safe space that they can come home to, where I can continue to love and guide and encourage as they lean into this next phase of living. I think all moms want to hold on just a little bit longer, but they’re ready. I think they’re always ready before we are.
Part of me grieves what was. These brisk fall mornings remind me of time spent at the apple orchard. Play dates with friends, pumpkin pie playdough, Thomas the Train tracks lining my hallway, matchbox cars in hand (always). It’s true what they say: “It all goes by so fast.”
These blossoms only last a day.
I’ve felt this kind of grief before. I suspect you have, too. Grief over someone who has passed away is expected - a natural, human response to having loved someone so dearly. That deep sadness is sacred; holy and enduring - oftentimes relentless and unpredictable. And yet we know that there is grief for the living losses, too. We tend to minimize these losses because they may seem small in comparison to what other people go through. But loss is still loss, and I want to acknowledge that.
❥ A medical diagnosis that now divides time into “before” and “after.”
❥ A loved one struggling with addiction, or other mental health conditions that impact how they relate to others.
❥ Family estrangement
❥ A move
❥ The loss of a marriage, or a job -
a faith community, or a friendship.
Grief over life changes, past experiences, dashed hopes and dreams, and unmet expectations - all of that is hard, too. We don’t often talk about that kind of grief.
I’ve experienced many living losses over the years, and I’ve tried to manage that grief in so many different ways. But I’ve only found one thing that actually works:
I have to walk right through it. I have to let myself really feel it. Pull up a chair, and sit with it.
Cry. Rage. Mourn. Vent (to a trusted person). And when I can, I practice gratitude.
No numbing, no avoiding, no distracting (anymore). Just wading through the messy, exhausting, uncomfortable feelings of grief. I tend to myself gently: sleep when my body calls me to rest, eat nourishing food, engage in gentle movement like walking or yoga. And I ask for help when I need it.
After the shifting and the changing, the twisting and turning, the fear and the uncertainty, the discomfort and the pain, comes a new way of being. Like the end of the morning glory, and the awakening of fresh blooms - a new season. On the other side of grief there is another place that will hold beauty, too.
I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been alone in my house in the past five years. And even though I welcome a little extra space, the stillness feels new to me. That first week of school, my spirit led me to the apple orchard - the same one where we once took wagon rides, and picked blueberries; where we planted peach trees and spoke gently to horses as we fed them grass through the fence. Those memories are tucked into my heart, as new memories are being made. I whispered a word of gratitude, and found my way to the farm stand. As I selected the perfect ears of corn for supper, I thought of those wild and free toddlers, now turned responsible and determined teenagers, who would be gathering around our dinner table later that evening. Conversations now shifting from Matchbox cars to Honda Accords; from Halloween costumes to Homecoming dresses.
Things are changing,
and there is still goodness.
🎙️ If you’re raising teens, this conversation between Kate Bowler and Lisa Damour caused me to exhale: Understanding Today’s Teenagers. And, Kate offers a “Blessing for Parenting Teenagers” that came at just the right time.
🌱Here are a few things that are saving my life right now in this crazy, “back-to-school” season:
🍓 Frozen fruit smoothies. Okay. This one may not be saving my life, but it has certainty saved my mornings. Particularly if you have a teen who is not exactly a morning person (hypothetically speaking, of course 😉).
Make and freeze single serve smoothie packets. Dump all of the ingredients into a quart-sized freezer bag. In the morning, pull a packet out of the freezer, toss it in the blender, add one cup of milk (we use almond, oat, or coconut), and voila! Breakfast is served. It takes all of the guesswork out of breakfast, and it saves a ton of time. And you can feel good about your kid simply “having” breakfast. It has been the ultimate game changer. ⚡️Earth friendlier tip: Wash and reuse the ziplock bags.
Here are a few basic recipes we’ve been using (each prep pack is 1 serving size).
🍽️ Menu planning. I know, I know. It sounds like work, and that would be true, but it is also saving my life right now. I am reminded that I actually enjoy cooking when I know the plan and I have all of the necessary ingredients on hand. Plus I can answer the question that is on repeat at my house: “What’s for dinner?” On Sundays, I take the time to plan my meals, and on Mondays, I shop. There is food, there are snacks, there is dinner. There have been zero complaints, and no one is “starving.” 🙄 I’ve been doing this for all of September, and it is working!
I created a document that makes meal planning easier. And, it’s colorful and pretty to look at, which makes the work more fun. If you think it would be helpful to you, it’s yours. Plan away!
I’ve been in a dinnertime rut since about 2012, so this meal-planning thing has inspired me to try some new recipes. Here are a few that our family enjoyed this month:
Spicy Sweet Potato and Green Rice Burrito Bowl
Easy Salsa Verde Chicken Enchiladas
Easy Instant Pot Pot Roast
And that’s a wrap on this month’s newsletter. As always, thanks for sharing your time with me - I’m so grateful for your presence. 💗
Here’s to morning glories greeting you.
Here’s to fresh blooms being born anew.
Here’s to new beginnings and fresh starts.
Here’s to gentleness for tender hearts.
With love & relentless hope in this upside-down world,
Jana
In case you missed it: Here are some quick links to a few of my most recent posts. You can find all of my posts here.
Reimagining Faith
Are Churches Intentionally Unclear?
An Open Letter to the Curious Christian
I am in a season of grief right now and it is like the ocean, sometimes the waves are small and other times they come crashing down. My heart knows I will not be like this forever. I remember grieving when our son was young and his toddler and preschool days were not like other children, or when I realized my son would probably never have children, so I would never be a Grandmother. Facing it head on. This loss will take more time, but like your morning glories and the blue wildflowers in my garden, they represent God’s promises which are renewed every morning. So I trust God will be beside me as I carry on with my life. And for you, I promise the next stage of Motherhood will be different but just as exciting.
Yes, yes, yes! We don’t talk enough about grief. It comes in many forms as you say and the only way to deal with it is to face it dead on as you say and allow ourselves to feel the pain. Unfortunately I think so many of us are taught to avoid or deny the pain.