Is There Life Out There?

Is there more to life than just raising children?

As a young mother raising four children, I prioritized everyone else's needs and desires over my own. I don't know how often I got frustrated because one or all of the children had to pee in the middle of running errands.

Can't you hold it for a minute?

Why couldn't they synchronize their bathroom trips?

Or go when I asked if they had to?

Why don't they need to pee when there is a bathroom nearby?

Thank God I had three boys. Boys can pee anywhere, and they did.

I sure got tired of being held hostage by a toddler's bladder.

When I was in the thick of raising my brood, Reba McEntire had a song out called "Is There Life Out There?" I sang the heck out of it. It became my anthem, and I belted it out at the top of my lungs while I mopped floors and changed diapers.

The chorus is:

Is there life out there? So much she hasn't done.

Is there life beyond her family and her home?

She's done what she should; should she do what she dares?

She doesn't want to leave, she's just wonderin', is there life out there?

Here's the link:

https://youtu.be/kZNvjmXM7eg?si=jF6OrhFsFjSt9AO4

As women, we tend to hold all the worries and concerns of our family upon our shoulders. We're good at it. It's like we're wired for it, so we just do it. If you want something done right, ask a busy woman.

I could bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, dress those kids to look like a model for H&M, and make my home look like it belonged on the McGee & Co website. Oh, and I was the best Room Mother E.V.E.R! To all four of my children's chasses…at the same time. Martha Stewart had nothing on me.

Keeping it all up was exhausting. There may have been a breakdown or two.

But I persevered! My children grew to be healthy, happy, productive members of society. (Well, except for my adopted daughter. More about her later.) They had families of their own. I was relieved of duty. I could enjoy my grandchildren when I wanted to and on my time. Their raising was up to their parents now. I could venture to discover if there was life out there.

And I did. I explored life. My husband and I traveled to places we could only once dream of going. We were just about to retire. We bought a little place on the beach. I affectionately call it: "My little tin shack in the vicinity of the beach." It was just an old mobile home two blocks from the beach. But it was ours. Of course, I decked her out, and it became the prettiest place in the whole neighborhood. And by neighborhood, I mean the mobile home park.

There was life out there. It was happening. My husband's plans were to sit under the pier and play bongos on the beach. I was going to make my own soap and sell it to the tourists. Not really, but it sounds romantic.

Until…

Until the story most of you can relate to. All of us raising grandchildren have a similar story. You know it. The one where we get the knock on the door from Child Protective Services. Or the call asking us if we can take in our grandchildren. Or them being dumped off at our house while their parents go out to do what they do.

Our plans come to a screeching halt. Our lives are no longer ours to do as we planned. Our lives now circle around a broken and hurting child who desperately needs us.

Is there life out there? Yes. But it's not the life we hoped for.

I don't know how you handled it, but I became angry and bitter. How dare my daughter do this to her son…and to me! I went through hell raising her. She came to us at the age of three with so much hurt and baggage. We tried to love her, but our love wasn't enough. She returned to the life we rescued her from and then dragged her son into it.

I raised my children, and here I am doing it again. This time, it's a very broken child who needs special attention. I am not young and vibrant enough to handle this chaos. I mean, I'm not old and crotchety either—I'm just tired. And I would prefer to enjoy a grandchild on my terms. I want to spoil them rotten and send them home for their parents to fix.

I'm learning my way through this. I'm figuring it out. God and I have had some long talks. He's heard my cries and my bitter emotions. He listened. He comforted. He's given me direction. But He hasn't taken this from me. I am still not living in my little tin shack in the vicinity of the beach, with a great tan, selling soap. We had to sell that dream. But God has stayed with me through the whole process.

I'm still learning. I'm still not happy to have to do this. But what is the other option? My grandchild placed in the system?

Come along on this journey and learn with me. We can encourage one another, pray for each other, and help as we can. You are not alone. An estimated 2.7 million grandparents are raising their grandchildren. That's a ridiculous number. How did we get to this place?

Let's figure it out together. I'm praying for you.