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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Art (01/18/07)
The Art of Letting Go

“Matt, get off the computer and practice your sax,” I hollered from the kitchen.

“OK, mom,” he called from the designated TV room, where you’ll find all manner of distractions: the 36” screen I’ll love to discard, ipod, computer and the game station. Actually, I love to discard them all except I’ll probably be reported for child cruelty to the exponential of entertainment.

I went back to chopping my scallion. It was fast approaching dinner time and the day had mostly slipped away. The microwave registered 5.10, a full 10 minutes since my last holler but still no sound of sax.

I wiped my hands on the towel, stomped into the TV room and launched into one of my nagging tirade, as it has been thus labeled by my son. Since it’s now the fifth reminders, I attached a threat as well.

“If you don’t get off that thing and get on with your saxophone practice, there’ll be no computer for the week.”

“ Oww, mom, you know I was just getting off.” Matt scooted out of the room to search for the illusive saxophone.

Kids…what do you do with them when they develop a sudden deaf syndrome just right
about the time they turn thirteen. They can blast their ears off with music that resembles the bunch of hyenas howling, yet our gentle reminders fall under the category of “highly undesirable sounds.” They can’t seem to hear any teaching or instructions, yet they can sing the lyrics to a new song or play any new video game without reading the instructions.

“Mom what is it that you want me to do again?” Matt will ask for the tenth time.

“Go upstairs into your bedroom and you’ll find your pants by your bed. Take it to the laundry room and throw it into the basket.”

He sauntered up the stairs, took one glance and yelled back, “Can’t find the pants, mom!”

I went upstairs and with just a glance, I spotted his pants under his bed, right where he stepped out to make a change.

“Now, what’s this?” I held up a crumbled khakis. He gave an impish smile and dashed off before he hears the R word. They gloss over responsibility and assigned tasks but they certainly don’t gloss over their appearances. Suddenly, they need Old Spice in their bathroom and lockers. They carry mints in their pockets and a cell-phone too. They walk with a “I’ve grown up all myself” gait and cultivate a quick tongue, all in the name of peer acceptance.

As friends take center stage, the family is supposed to take the cue and fade away. He now has a social agenda that can rival Justin Timberlake: Friday evening bowling, skate park on Saturday, squeeze in a band practice, and then a sleepover. If Sunday is available, he’ll jam-pack that too.

What happened to the little boy who used to snuggle up to me on Friday nights with a huge bowl of pop-corn watching a family movie? What happened to the little boy who used to run up to me in school and give me a hug right in front of his friends. Suddenly, I’m not supposed to be spotted within three feet of him, especially when he is in school.

“It’s not cool, mom. Nobody’s mom comes inside the school to wait for them anymore. Why don’t you wait in the car until I’m done with jazz band?” So it’s no longer cool to carry projects in a paper bag, no longer cool to tote a roller backpack even though it weighs 50 pounds, no longer cool to wear turtle-necks even though it’s freezing the oranges out there.

I wonder…is there any art form to raising an adolescent? How do I deal with a teenager morphing into a grown-up? Wrapped up in their own angst, trying to figure the world out, trying to cut the apron string without being callous…I think I understand but maybe I don’t. It’s an art form that no book can truly teach you, you’ll just have to waddle through it with Jesus in hand. James Dobson likened it to flying a kite…the art of knowing when to let out and when to hold on tight and when to let go. I never was able to fly a kite, though I’ve tried many times, so I’m going to need God to hold the kite and until it’s ready to take off.
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This article has been read 802 times
Member Comments
Member
Date
Niki Tschirgi
01/25/07
I have two little boys and I kind of dread the teenage years...but your writing warmed my heart and brought a smile to my face. I really enjoyed your thoughts and lighthearted views!
Julie Arduini
01/26/07
Very crisp writing! I enjoyed the paragraph about the R word and the next paragraph about his schedule rivaling Justin Timberlake's. Very original.
Donna Powers
01/31/07
Boy, can I relate to this. I have survived two teenagers and am getting ready to brave the teen years of my youngest. I once heard that raising teenagers is akin to trying to nail jell-o to a wall. All I can say is: handle with prayer. Oh, and I loved this realistic story. It is very well written!
Martha Ford
02/01/07
As a grandmother I remember the "art of letting go" with each of my three. There's a different art involved with being a granny instead of their parents. God smooths out the rough spots. Very unique use of topic. Great story! Thanks.