Simplifying… me

Brooklyn has been feeling a little sad lately.  Almost daily she will tell me that she is lonely because she doesn’t have a best friend.  I empathize with her and try to listen to her sweet four-year-old heart express this longing for a best friend.  One day, I told her that I understand how she feels.  I, too, have no best friend in my life right now.  She looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Yes you do, Mommy!  You have Daddy.  Daddy is your best friend.”  How true, and what a profound observation on her part.  While I could argue with Brooklyn about the difference between a girl best friend and the best friend I have in Joel, I decided it was best to simply drop it and listen to her. 

It’s amazing to me – this innate need in us girls to have a best friend, even at four-years-old.  There is a definite void in our lives when we don’t have that special ‘gal pal’ to pour our hearts out to.  We can have the most loving, supportive and loyal husband in the world – which I am so blessed to have – but even with all those wonderful traits, there is something missing without a girlfriend. 

As I listen to Brooklyn everything in my ‘mommy’ fiber wants to fix her problem, find her a friend, and make her happy because I hurt when I see my children feeling sad.  I know what it feels like to be lonely, and I hate to see my kids, whom I love dearly, experience that kind of emptiness.  At the same time – while the motherly urge to rescue and relieve runs rampant in my soul – I know at some point my children must experience this pain, and I know that Brooklyn will not be lonely and best friendless forever.  (In fact, out of all three of my children Brooklyn is the one I worry about less in this matter.  She is truly a happy, bubbly, friendly and “doesn’t know a stranger” kind of girl.)

All that to say:  I am working hard (daily) to look at the lives of my children through a bigger lens.  How will they look ten/twenty some years from now?  If every time Brooklyn cries because she doesn’t have a best friend, and I jump to her aid, how will she manage loneliness when she is a teenager?  How will she cope as a twenty-something and out on her own?  Will I still need to set up play dates for my twenty-four-year-old?  (I know – highly unlikely – but do you see my point?)  It is okay for Brooklyn to feel lonely.  It is okay for her to feel sad.  As her mom, and as one with many years of knowing what loneliness feels like, I also know that these feelings – these experiences – are temporal.  Eventually God brings a best friend, sometimes more, into our lives.  God created us for relationship.  He knows how much we need and desire real friendship.

God also knows loneliness.  He has felt the pain and carried the burden of being completely alone and abandoned.  Brooklyn will probably never experience the kind of loneliness that Christ felt, but she will indeed go through seasons of heartache and longing for a friend.  The best thing I can do for my sweet, little girl is to allow her to feel this kind of sadness, resist the instinct to fix her problem and listen – ever so empathetically – to her heart’s cry.  Just as God turns His compassionate ear to me when I break down in a heap of lonely tears, I can listen to Brooklyn.  God, who knows what is best for me, and knows that these seasons never last a lifetime, is teaching me to look at my child’s situation in much the same way.  There are times when it is not about facilitating and fixing, but it is about listening and empathizing. 

So, the next time Brooklyn comes to me and tells me that she is lonely and wants a best friend, I will listen.  I will love her and empathize with her, knowing that her best friend is right around the corner.

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