I’m in New Jersey these few weeks – exploring my familiar motherland, seeing family and friends and really reveling in the fact that though many things have changed since I grew up here, there are many things that feel much the same. For example, the mountain at the end of our dead end street where I spent my first 11 years has been declared green space. The trees are a bit taller and the pathways have changed a bit, but knowing that it will be preserved for all time and for all to explore, gives me great pleasure.  I can go up there with my own kids, up on, “snake mountain” as we dubbed it, and hike, climb the giant rocks that jut out at the top, and make fairy houses out of the green moss and mushrooms that grow in every nook and cranny.

In these spaces I’m also getting to spend time with my 8 siblings, all their kids, my mom and a whole passel of cousins and other kith and kin. Lucky me! Lucky us.

We have lots of great late night talks around the lake or around the fire or around the kitchen table. Last night we were talking about allowing the lessons to unfold on their own – rather than forcing them or forcing ourselves to know what is next or what to do.

To this discussion my sister said, “We don’t have to know what to do as parents. We can trust that if we just pause, wait a bit, the answers will present themselves.”

I like this idea. It makes me think that maybe I can do this job after all.