A Mother's Journey with the Seasons by Mayang Sison-Pascual
Being a mom to a man/child, I have come into such a life where I have to be ready with a raincoat, wear an autumn jacket, don a pair of sunglasses , and even a winter coat to use at a drop of a hat.
There are moments when I feel like I have come to a place and time where one could experience all the seasons in a day. There are times when all is bright and shiny like when he is happily eating a popsicle after a good meal. I am basking in the sun’s rays with sunglasses and a summer hat as he enjoys life’s simple pleasures. The light lingers as he hops, skips and jumps listening to his favorite songs on Spotify.
Then without notice, everything suddenly morphs into another season where the leaves turn orange and brown; where sadness and quiet tears are shed as the air becomes chilly and gusty winds prevail. I could only surmise that he is recalling the past that makes him melancholy.
I have to wear a winter coat because my son gives me this frozen look with a cold silence that tells me when he is inside his head, or his daily rhythm is off the beaten track. He is at a loss on how to place himself in the scheme of things. His knitted brow and icy, far-away look in his eyes are tell-tale signs.
Right now, I am going through a monsoon phase with my son. He breaks into a tantrum for he cannot say what he wants. This lack causes him so much angst when his intentions are thwarted. He cries, screams and hits himself and others in his path. When this happens we all run for cover. His Tito Nene ably de-escalates the situation by making Reuel sit down on the floor, allowing him to bawl his eyes out. He quietly stays with him until the “typhoon” season is over.
Spring season is in the air when I sit down with Reuel to create a drawing on paper and bring it to life with colors. Everything is well with the world as Reuel smiles and concentrates on his art, and whispers a sort of ‘mantra’ under his breath. We have such an extraordinary experience in the ordinariness of our day. I imagine art angels gracing us with their presence amidst the sprouting seeds in a field, full of hope in springtime.
I feel that my heart would burst… with thanks, with joy, with sadness, guilt and frustration.
I resonate with spiritual writer, Macrina Wiederkehr OSB, when she wrote: “The seasons of my heart change like the seasons of the fields. There are seasons of wonder and hope, seasons of suffering and love, seasons of healing. There are seasons of dying and rising, seasons of faith.“
Reuel came into my life for a reason and I am blessed that he is with me for all Seasons.