{"id":2270,"date":"2014-10-08T14:14:47","date_gmt":"2014-10-08T18:14:47","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/admin.patheos.com\/blogs\/sermonsfromthemound\/?p=2270"},"modified":"2014-12-30T12:11:17","modified_gmt":"2014-12-30T17:11:17","slug":"joy-at-the-breakfast-table","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/sermonsfromthemound\/2014\/10\/joy-at-the-breakfast-table\/","title":{"rendered":"Joy at the Breakfast Table"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<\/head>

I went out to my favorite trail to run again, Pheasant Branch<\/a> in Middleton, a three mile loop that takes me through both the prairies and the woodlands of Southern Wisconsin. I know every turn and twist, which helps me see the minute changes from week to week as the seasons progress.<\/p>\n

This connection to a specific place, as well as the running, grounds me.<\/p>\n

\"shutterstock_169203356\"<\/a>
shutterstock.com<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

A week ago, three sandhill cranes flew right over my head, belling their prehistoric music, maybe on their way to find the bigger flock they\u2019ll migrate with. I don\u2019t believe in coincidence. The card for JOY<\/em><\/strong> in my tarot deck shows three cranes dancing, and my jogged mind said to me, You better write about this<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Joy in the parents with their now-grown chick, headed back to join their community. What is more archetypal than that?<\/p>\n

\u00a0***<\/p>\n

Not every dance a family does is quite so joyful. My oldest is thirteen now and suddenly my used-to-be-morning child is slugging pretty hard into his bed. No matter that his alarm goes off at 5:30, the past couple of mornings he\u2019s tumbled downstairs, scarfed breakfast\u2026and needed a ride to school because he missed the bus and it\u2019s too late to walk.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is your problem to solve,\u201d I holler up at him. \u201cI\u2019m not going to drive you to school every day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll skip breakfast!\u201d he yells from upstairs. \u201cI\u2019ll skip lunch! I deserve to be punished!!\u201d<\/p>\n

Change is hard for my kid.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

There\u2019s the savvy old saying, You can lead a horse to water but you can\u2019t make him drink. This is pretty practical advice for parents. Unless you give birth to a mule.<\/p>\n

My kid is something of a mule. When he gets thirsty, I know from long experience I can\u2019t lead him to the water. He\u2019ll just balk. Instead, I have to nod my head casually and say, \u201cI hear tell there\u2019s water over thataway.\u201d<\/p>\n

I\u2019d like to solve all his problems for him\u2026but he resists that, and I know deep down he is right to resist it. He\u2019s gotta figure it out for himself. Each of us does. My job may be, more or less, to keep a little space clear at home to give him the place and the quiet he needs to become himself in the world.<\/p>\n

\u00a0***<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

I\u2019ve been sitting on this essay for a week, because there\u2019s something about it that felt unfinished, half-realized. And I think, reading it over again, that it\u2019s right here, in the acknowledgment of my own limits. This strange little piece is not just about one mother and son relationship. Maybe this is the best we can do for each other, ever: to keep a little space clear in all our relations to allow family, friends, colleagues, to be and become themselves. I can\u2019t solve your grief. I can\u2019t tell you how to fix your life. I can\u2019t know you, ever, fully. But I can give you room. And I can help to define the boundaries of that space by listening closely, deeply, to your voice.<\/strong> \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

If we could look at each other and promise, <\/em>You can be yourself with me, it\u2019s okay, what a gift that would be. What a revolution.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0***<\/p>\n

While I was driving my kid over to school, he said angrily, \u201cMaybe I need to start setting my alarm for 3 a.m<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell you know,\u201d I said, eyes remaining on the road, \u201cI don\u2019t think the alarm is working. Maybe it\u2019s already set too early.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHey\u2013yeah<\/em>,\u201d he said. Sometimes there\u2019s grace. Sometimes a person is receptive to a new idea. We\u2019ll see how it goes tonight.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0***<\/p>\n

Meanwhile, after the kids have gone to school I light a candle
\nand search out Wayland in my notebooks.<\/p>\n

He\u2019s reading a copy of The Anvil\u2019s Ring<\/a> and says absently,
\nDid you know they\u2019re still trying to figure out
\nthe Ulfbehrt<\/a> swords? <\/em>He chuckles, shaking his head.<\/p>\n

Hey,<\/em> I say. I could use a little direction here.
\nThis hasn\u2019t been an easy season.<\/em><\/p>\n

But I should know better by now.<\/p>\n

He doesn\u2019t even look up, just smiles to himself.
\nI hear there\u2019s water over yonder. If
\nyou\u2019re thirsty. Follow those cranes.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

One week later\u2026my son walked to school this morning, and was probably late getting there. He\u2019ll figure it out. Yesterday the three cranes were closer to the trail when I jogged by. <\/em>You\u2019re still here, I said. The tallest one looked at me. <\/em>Of course. You haven\u2019t published that essay yet.<\/p>\n

\"shutterstock_147328601\"<\/a>
shutterstock.com<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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