Every month or so I have lunch with my friend Donna. Donna and I met about five years ago when I was organizing a speaker series at our local YWCA. We have stayed in touch since then attending lectures together, meeting to discuss books, goals and writing. Donna’s son is significantly older than the girls. In fact, he and his beautiful bride recently returned from their honeymoon.
Today, as I talked (ok… complained) about how busy I was Donna began to ask questions and give advice. “Are the girls having fun?” “Are they doing ok in school?” “Did they ask to do all these activities or did you insist?” Well, yes, yes, yes. They are having fun. School hasn’t been affected. This was all their idea. But my complaints couldn’t be stopped. I talked about how worried I was about next year, about when the dancing got more intense, when there was more homework. When, when, when.
And then Donna began to talk about her son’s experiences. Of going from one sport to the other. Of eating a sandwich with one hand and changing his uniform with the other. Of wanting to quit a sport but not and then being glad he had continued. And in all her talking, I heard wisdom and experience. And I also heard hindsight. In hindsight, it had all worked out. Donna had known her son and made decisions that best met his needs. And it had all worked out.
As she talked, I thought about all the conversations I’ve had with parents of younger children who aren’t sleeping or who are struggling with potty training or who are having temper tantrums. And when I talk to them, those days seem so long ago and in truth, those problems seem so solvable, so obvious. “It will all be ok.”, I often say. “It will all work out.”
Because it does, right? I feel lucky to have shared a meal today with a friend who is walking on this path ahead of me. I feel lucky to be have been reminded that it will all work out. Because it almost always does.