The central theme in George Eliot’s novel Middlemarch
focuses on young adults and their lofty goals. I cannot honestly say that I see
myself as one who, at that age, even had goals, much less lofty ones; rather, I
am filled with experience gained by having watched my nine children navigate
this difficult time of life.
My ability to deal with the ups and downs and the heartaches of
my children’s young-adult lives has changed dramatically from the first to the
last child. For the first few children, when life would let them down, I wore
their pain like I would a cozy winter coat. I didn’t see how we would get
through the disappointments. By the time I got to about the fifth child, I
began to see life’s struggles as normal; almost predictable. And now, as I
empathize with the last few children, I feel myself standing at a safe
distance––a distance that allows me to see more clearly. I do not wear their
problems anymore; therefore, I am much more prepared to actually be of help.
Besides being there in the hard times, a mother needs to be there
when her children believe in life and the dreams that are in their hearts. No
one wants their lofty goals squashed by anyone, especially their own mother. If
your mom doesn't believe in you, who will? I may have knowledge of the sad fact
that their lofty goals will not turn out exactly as they hope, but I certainly
do not have a crystal ball that tells me what will happen instead.
If I don’t know, and they don’t know, then what is the point of
my undying support? The answer is: go along for the ride as though all will turn
out as they had hoped and dreamed it would. Does that mean I am deceiving my
young, impressionable children? No. On the contrary, it is showing them that
every person on this planet takes the same trip: it’s called life. And we are
here to go through it together; ups and downs, successes and failures. It all
counts. It’s all for the experience. And there never was just one way to do it
anyway.
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