By Icy Frantz
This past Easter, we experienced a first.
It wasn’t the discovery of the golden egg at a local Easter egg hunt or our adult children arriving on time for Easter service or leaving our annual Easter brunch having only “taken a look” at the dessert buffet.
This past Easter, we had no children at home, which was a first since our eldest was born in 1996.
And I promised myself I wouldn’t feel sad or out of sorts. But I felt a little of both.
Easter was different this year…and I didn’t like it at all.
And yet, right around the time the daffodils were blooming, and Cadbury Cream Eggs were overflowing on the shelves of CVS, I read the following words, and they struck me:
Freedom to roam.
I don’t remember the exact context, but they seemed relevant. And it’s easy to get lost in the imagery those three words conjure up.
Think Yellowstone – a handsome John Dutton galloping on a mare, Beth Dutton taking a bath in an outdoor tub with a bottle or two of Champagne and the vast Montana plains in the backdrop. Oh, and Rip Wheeler.
But I digress.
Taken literally, “freedom to roam,” also referred to as the “right to roam,” stems from a law or policy—mostly in European countries—that allows hikers to pass through private property (as long as said hikers are responsible and respectful of the land).
But for the sake of this piece, I will leave both Yellowstone and legalities behind for now and instead focus on how these three words relate to our Easter this year, parenting…and life, really.
Parenting is wonderful and hard, and giving our children the freedom to roam can be daunting.
Sure, early on, sleepless nights are exhausting. Ear infections, colic, and projectile throw up are no fun. Calls from school principals about a child’s misstep are a bummer. Soothing a child after being cut from a team, rejected by friends or a college — all tough.
But letting go, supporting, and having faith in our children’s journey — no matter how far away or different it is from what we imagined — can be truly challenging.
So, where were the Frantz children this Easter?
Right where they were supposed to be.
Our newly engaged eldest was spending Easter with his fiancée and her family.
A son, working and living in London, was taking advantage of Europe’s ease of travel and spending the weekend in Madrid.
Another son was invited by family to spend Easter in Florida, where he’s the super cool, older uncle.
And finally, our daughter — who announced on our family chat on Easter morning that she was becoming a Buddhist — was living in Mongolia, teaching English to monks in exchange for room and board and meditation classes (White Lotus, anyone?).
So, although I missed them dearly, allowing our children the freedom to roam physically, mentally, and spiritually is how they learn and mature, and ultimately become who they are meant to be.
And sometimes we must “take the hit” to foster and celebrate their growth.
On the other hand, though, having no children at home this Easter also gave us the freedom to roam.
So, roam we did — literally – on Easter Sunday, taking our grateful dogs for a hike.
But on any given day — not just the holidays — there is more time for both freedom and exploration after the kids have moved on, and an opportunity to become who we are meant to be too.
And this freedom is not restricted to those of us with a newly empty nest.
It applies to everyone as we move into our later years, the golden years – the wise, hard-fought twilight years (or whatever charming name we come up with to describe them).
For some, it may mean a rededicated focus on a career, or a reentry into the workforce with a new perspective or angle.
For me, I have taken on several projects, some of which sat idle in ink for years on sticky notes attached to my computer.
I enrolled in an online course on AI to better prepare myself for what is coming (or what has come).
I became certified as a life coach.
I traveled.
I shared my story at an NPR-like event inspired by The Moth.
I immersed myself in meaningful work for a not-for-profit I care about deeply.
I wrote more, read more.
I joined a six-week course on meditation (now I just need to do it).
I played squash.
And I spent quality time with good friends — not just over dinner talking about life, but actually experiencing life together. (Remember how we used to do that when we were kids…on teams, on the playground, at summer camp?)
And I am learning that I need to be both intentional and thoughtful about the use of this newfound time.
David Brooks describes it well (of course he does) in his book, The Second Mountain; The Quest for a Moral Life.
You see, our “second mountain” (his charming name for the later years) is all about finding our own meaning and purpose.
“A life of commitment means saying a thousand noes for the sake of a few precious yeses.”
And finding our way through the open field of choices can be similar to Marie Kondo’s method of decluttering. For Kondo, it’s asking the question,
“Does this spark joy?” and our answer can help us decide what to keep and what to throw out.
The same is true when we are cultivating our path forward. Although I would add, “does it spark joy for others?” as well.
Our lives may not resemble the Montana open plains – sun setting, with a muscled Rip in the doorway – but the freedom to roam gives us the opportunity to pause and reflect and create the same peace and harmony.
And purpose and meaning.
As for our children, we will always, always welcome them the freedom to roam right back into our home, on Easter or any given day, even if they are just passing through.
Icy Frantz
The Icing on the Cake
Icy@Icyfrantz.net
