People say that when you have children, your life is never the same. I never understood that phrase until I had children. In the early days, despite strapping them to me and hiking, and towing them places I always went, life was pretty much the same. Except for one thing: my thoughts of health, safety and success now revolved around my children, not just myself.
My oldest son challenged this from the womb. At his very first ultrasound the doctor called me into an office and handed me a box of tissues. She then explained the fetus was not viable and that it was “probably nothing at all.” She explained that I could check into the hospital right now and have “it” removed.
Instead, sobbing, I asked for more time. The doctor, humoring me, made me come in weekly for blood tests. Over time, a miraculously thing happened-- that “probably nothing” grew, and then one day, displayed a heartbeat as if arrogantly saying “I am something.”
Years later, he was doing all the crazy, scheming things that little boys do, like making giant slingshots to aim at the house windows or tying a rope to the deck to swing like Indiana Jones. It made me chuckle… probably nothing at all eh?
So then, at 17, the kid who was “almost nothing” said to me, “I want to be an Army ranger.” I hoped and prayed this would pass like his quest to be Indiana Jones.
God and I had some very “nice,” little, private, screaming and crying sessions together in the van (God was not the one screaming).
I know the military is honorably and loyally protecting our country. So, passing by the triangular shaped flag that draped my father’s coffin as a veteran of World War II made me feel horrible that I, selfishly, did not want to sacrifice my own son. And I wondered if, somewhere, God had a ram for me like the story of Jacob and Issac (Genesis 22).
Then truth hit: The reality is I-- we-- don’t own our kids. We have them on loan.
Our bodies, our time and every square inch of our heart pours into them, but their destiny is in God’s hands. As mothers, we have to see more than the present but instead, into the future concerning God’s plan. God so often gives us that detour we didn’t understand only to have us find out that we got exactly where we were supposed to go.
As for me, I finally found comfort and peace in my Father God, who did not spare his own son for the good of mankind. He understood my heart, seventeen years ago, when I asked him to save my baby and, now, as I ask him to protect my son.
Trust is a hard thing. We wrap that word in a lot of clichés, but trust is a verb not a noun most of the time; it requires action. If you’re facing a situation that seems out of control and are tempted to panic, lean into the one who gave you your child in the first place. Yield your trust. First catch, then release your child into God’s trustworthy hands.
Word of the Day:
“Those who trust in the Lord are like Mount Zion, which cannot be shaken but endures forever.” Psalm 125:1
Father help me to raise my children in your wisdom and stature. Help me to inspire them to do amazing things. And when those things involve me letting go, help me to let go in your peace. Whether it’s the school gate or an operating room. The playground or the marines, Father help me to trust you with my child that you will finish in him the great things we started. In Jesus’ Name, Amen