Yesterday morning I sat in a coffee shop to do some work and savor a dark-roasted coffee. It wasn’t long before mothers with young children arrived in packs, pushing tables together and doing their best to maintain crowd control.

Children hopped from table to table to find the best one and the most comfortable seat — even though each table had the same chairs. One little boy insisted the 2-person table he chose was the best, no matter how much his mother tried to persuade him the 4-person table next to them would fit the three of them better. That was until they sat down, the mother took off her coat, and got situated. Then at that very moment, the little boy hopped up and moved to a chair at the 4-person table announcing, “I’m sitting over here!”

I chuckled. I remembered when my daughter was that little. I found myself smiling at the mothers, amused by this little boy, and at the same time touched by the excitement and adventure of the other little ones in the coffee shop.

My quiet haven for working turned into a romping room full of chatter and disgruntled children from time to time, but I didn’t mind. I think God gifted mothers in that way–we can tune out the noise to accomplish some things, but yet at the same time be relentlessly in tune with the noise to know when to pay closer attention. Right?

It was my few moments of not being on Mom Patrol so I was in my little corner of solitude in spite of the commotion. Since these young ones weren’t my responsibility, I tuned out the noise. But not before I was reminded of the camaraderie mothers need.

There is something about walking alongside another woman who’s either in the same season of life, or has just moved into the next. It’s refreshing, hopeful, engaging, and let’s face it … it’s downright enjoyable to actually have an adult conversation!

Most of the moms who arrived, came with a friend. While one mother went to place her order, the other occupied the children. It was simple, yet understood teamwork 

We need other women around us – no matter what season of life we are in. There are also times we need our solitude, even if it’s small increments of time where we can set down our Mom Patrol duty and just be.

So what do you need today? Pick up the phone and call a friend. Or if you need to, retreat to the bathroom if that’s the only solitude available. It’s okay — you’ll know when to tune back in … a two-year-old’s silence is always a good clue.

Independence. It’s something all kids long to exert.

At two, my daughter got into my eyeshadow. She “knew” what to do even though she looked like she had two black eyes. I did what any parent would do — grabbed my camera and took a picture!

At four, she insisted on getting her bike unstuck all by herself. Never mind that she straddled the gutter with her training wheels. I was only allowed to watch as she peddled faster and faster, to no avail, to get the bike moving. I silently smiled.

At eight, she boasted how much older she was than the kindergartners we taught Sunday School to each week. I chuckled to myself when she told the kindergartners, “When I was little …” 

At eleven, middle school began and she didn’t need us to walk her to the bus stop anymore (although we were “allowed” to come if we brought the dog with us). I brought the dog as often as possible.

Now at thirteen, it’s all about going alone to the mall with her friends. As I write this, I’m sitting here at the mall’s food court while my daughter and her friend exert their independence. I allow thirty minute increments of this freedom before they have to check in with me again for the next round. I show my gratitude when they return on time.

As I reminisce, I remember how much I’ve enjoyed every stage of her growth. With each new phase, come new experiences and challenges. 

Things are different now — I’m not allowed to bring a camera to the mall for pictures and I got the please-don’t-embarrass-me-look when I gave her hand an I-love-you-squeeze in church today. (I sometimes forget what it’s like to be thirteen.) That’s okay. Her budding independence is a joy and an absolute kick! Sure, as with every phase, it carries it’s share of challenges. But now I sit and listen as she shares her passions and dreams with me. I beam when she makes a responsible choice. I’m touched when she gives me something she’s written that blesses my heart. I proudly watch her teach the kindergartners each Sunday morning — by herself — while my husband and I stand in the backdrop to offer help when she needs it.

Growth and independence — two beautiful things. As parents, we need to embrace it in our children. If we channel it in the right direction, there will be nothing our children cannot successfully do!

As parents our roles are numerous. One important role is being our child’s ultimate cheerleader.

I recently caught the tail end of a documentary of a famous recording artist. Immediately, the support and encouragement of the mother shined. When others discredited the talent of the young aspiring artist, the mother beamed proudly with firm belief, and forever nudged her child to press on.

As the documentary lingered in my mind, I couldn’t help but evaluate my own abilities to be my daughter’s cheerleader. At times, I succeed. Other times, I miss vital opportunities.

What is an opportunity? It’s a pause or a moment in time where we are given an opening. In being our child’s cheerleader, it’s an opening to spur him or her on to greatness. The adventure comes in not knowing what the final greatness is to be, but looking for glimpses or sparks just waiting to be further ignited.

A cheerleader isn’t reserved for the athletic department. A cheerleading parent finds the beauty in a child’s first piano piece, the vulnerability in a child’s poem, the tender heart of a helpful child, or the strength in a child’s individuality.

Life is full of openings to encourage our children. Rather than see missed opportunities behind us, let’s capture each possibility that skips our way.

“Don’t wait for extraordinary opportunities. Seize common occasions and make them great.” — Orison Swett Marden