Trash Cans

 "every single thing we need to know about ourselves as humans happens in the space between urge and action and most of us are interested in collapsing that space to as small as possible. "

This recycling can has been sitting at the end of my driveway for almost a week now. It went down there (by me) last Tuesday and is still sitting there.

I have already carried up the large trash can like this, as well as the smaller outdoor trashcan we use in our basement.

This trash can has become my Everybody Loves Raymond suitcase (if you haven't seen that episode, look it up = it's called "Baggage.")

I've seen numerous people in my house walk past that trash can and not bring it up the driveway. Multiple times.

As I came in from my walk today, I begrudgingly dragged the third, and final, can up my long driveway all the way lamenting about how I'm the ONLY one who can see the trash can.

It's been there SEVEN days. SEVEN days people.

I was thinking on my walk this morning how people are either a "I'll get the can myself person" or a "Someone else will get the can person."

I have found motherhood insists you be the first. I'm the getter of the cans, the changer of the lightbulbs, the filler of the ice trays (even though I never use an ice cube. Ever.), the finder of the lost things.

Maybe because motherhood has made me observant of what needs to be done.

Maybe it was always my personality - the group work member who did all the work so I knew it would be done correctly.

Maybe I've created an environment where others know I will get the can so they don't bother.

Maybe it's all 3.

If I want someone else to get that can, I have to be willing to leave it there.

I was thinking this morning that part of mothering for me has become how to leave the can there.

As my big kids grow into their own people, I can see mistakes coming a mile away.

I have to be willing to leave the can.

Not fix it. Not be the one who carts it up the driveway. I have to be willing to let them walk the consequences of a can not gotten on their own.

I honestly don't find it as hard to allow them to make their own mistakes as I find it hard to not have an emotional response to it.

I've taught them better. I've modeled better. I've offered help they have not seeked. They often knew to choose differently.

Their journey is not mine.

I don't own their mistakes any more than I own their successes.

I don't define my existence in them.

I don't want to save them from learning life's lessons.

Mama Warriors, perhaps you too are in a season of life where you are being challenged to leave the cans at the end of the driveway.

You can do this.

If you leave the can, you have to be prepared to let the consequence occur.

It's in the consequence that we learn life's lessons.

One of the big struggles with this new generation is no one is getting the can AND no one is being held accountable for that. We're raising a generation of victims that can't accept responsibility and navigate natural consequences.

We aren't gifting our kids a "better life" when we shield them from life itself.

I'd argue that if we want our kids to have a "better life" we need to let them fall and learn how to get back up.

Otherwise how do they know they can do hard things?

And wouldn't we all agree that often the best parts of life are hard things?