Three times meeting yesterday

     This seems to be an alarming trend, an uncomfortable repeating pattern. For the third time in two months, I  met  myself while walking along life’s lengthy corridor.
The pattern seems to be “Old mother passing Young mother”, perhaps it is “the me of experience and the inexperienced one.   It  could even be “a comfortable me vs. the me who wanted to crawl out of her own skin.”
     The first time this happened, it caused me to look at who I was as a mother to my first two children. What experiences I gave them, what time I devoted to their care – and to compare it to the mother I am today. The time and experiences I devote to 8 children, as opposed to only two.
     The second time entailed a startling realization that today, I feel a desperate need for peace, for quiet, for orderliness that is totally unattainable with all of these children around me all day every day. And a look into the past where I could see so clearly the desire for all of these children. For the need for childrens laughter, for inane banter, for teasing and running. For children.
     Today marks the third passing. I was asked to teach a class at church that I have not taught for 17 years. Since my 1st child was born. When I was asked to teach the class, I again had a rush of memory. Me, at 21 years old – teaching a class full of ‘grown ups’. I was certain that I was totally inadequate to teach this class – having been in the Gospel for such a short time in comparison to these ‘seasoned’ women. Each lesson I taught was worried about, fretted over, tossed and turned in hopes that if I could make it creative enough, and energetic enough, that they might not notice that I had such a tiny pool of experience from which to draw.
     This morning, I received a call from a dear friend, asking if I would teach her lesson as her daughter would be delivering the first grandchild. I admit to having a little bit of discomfort at the thought of having only hours, not weeks to prepare. But when she brought over her already prepared lesson, I was fine! All these years of teaching children at church. All ages, from 4 to 19 must have given me some peace, some level of comfort in teaching, and a greater knowledge of the Gospel. Teaching today was FUN! It was an interaction with people who I felt to be on the same level as I am. A discussion of a fascinating topic. A presentation of ideas, of thoughts, and of mental stimulation.
     When I met  myself today, I had the same realization. For the third time in two months, I walked by a young, thin, smiling young mother. Our eyes met in startled recognition and seemed to say “I know you. ”
The me of yesterday looked with questioning eyes “am I doing all right? I am so unsure. I feel as if I am walking on parts of an unbuilt bridge, not sure of where to place my feet, not sure how to cross to the other side.”
     The me of today looks with happiness, with confidence, and with pride. She tries to communicate with a compassionate look of her own “You have no idea of all that you are capable of. You will become an amazing woman. Trust in yourself. Trust in your God. Trust those around you to show you the way. You may not make all the right steps, but when you are where I am – you will see how well you have done. You will be so happy”
     Perhaps one day I will be blessed enough to see another me. To come into contact with the me of the future. The one who has raised all of her children. Who has passed though all of the heartache, the joy, the work and the play. The Grandmother who is beginning to watch her own children become parents. The ‘seasoned woman’ who has successfully passed through the rigors of raising children and come successfully on the other side.
     I would look to her, my eyes full of questions. “Will they turn out all right? Will they make good choices? Will they follow the paths that we have marked for them? Will I have the mental stability to make it through the rest of my parenting days? Through children driving, dating, leaving the home. Will I be able to let them go? 
     Hopefully, she would look back at me with happiness, compassion and pride and tell me all is well.  It was a job well done.  That I had done what I set out to do all those years ago.