As I sit quietly in the house, only the clicking of the dryer competes with the agitation of the washer and the tapping of my fingers on the keyboard. I love those three sounds. Silence interrupted by necessity and pleasure, a reminder that there is more to life than this screen I stare at and yet face-to-face with the reality that God has blessed me with the opportunity to write, reflect, and respond to the pounding on my heart with words.
I’m up in this quiet place long before the rest of the family, not by choice but by conviction. It wouldn’t be right for a momma to sleep in, as much as my heavy body wrestled against the leading of the Spirit, flesh not wanting to escape from the warm of the covers to meet a crisp fall morning. I suppose I wouldn’t be so tired if the enticement of House Hunters International (love that show) kept me motivated to continue working through a mending pile. Trust me, I’d rather toss those ragged garments away and start the hunt for new ones, but our calling requires making the most of what we have (and that is a submission story for another time altogether).
As I rustled through the bedroom in search of my workout clothes, I could hear her movement through the house. Based on the number of steps creaked, I was pretty sure she was well into her routine. Sleepy eyes staring at the weather map, checking the winds followed by a read through her devos, and back upstairs to grab her clothes. Why she doesn’t make one trip down with all the gear always puzzles me, but this is her life to live her way, not mine. I’m glad she’s not quite as a lazy as me, even if I like to pretend my laziness is efficiency. In this case, it is truly my laziness that I’m noticing.
From the scent of slightly burning egg, I could tell she was nearly ready to go. And that she was, dressed in her sailing uniform, hair pulled back in a beautifully, messy, bun pony-tail thing, with heavy eye giving away her sleepiness. Her mouth attempted to fool her body, as it has since her diaper days. Her Nana always said, “That girl’s mouth opens before her eyes.” It is still true, and was a source of great exasperation years ago, when her booming words would awake the twins. But now instead of shushing her out of frustration, I find myself realizing that the day will come when she’ll not even need me to send her off.
There will be no one to shush.
Looking at her now, I could be fooled into thinking it would have been fine to stay in bed. She got herself up, dressed, fed, and in order. My little reminders, “Do you think you should bring a change of clothes? How about a towel? Did you pack some water?” aren’t really necessary. When did she become so responsible? How did it happen without me?
Or did it?
Did those trying toddler training years reap these dividends?
If so, I didn’t think I’d see the fruit so early on.
This must be God’s grace, to be able to see the passing of time and the results of sacrifices made with an eternal perspective.<–Click to Tweet This
It is His grace because I could rattle off 100 things I didn’t do right as a mom. I could recall 100 times I spoke a harsh word, responded out of selfishness, messed up my priorities. I could tell you 100 wishes I have about how I would do things differently, if I could do it again.But since I can’t, I’d rather tell you 100 things I’ve learned {did you get this free download by subscribing to more to be yet?} and the things pressing in on my heart today.
Even though it seems like she doesn’t need me, I know she does, but in ways we’ll never see nor be able to quantify. Simply being awake tells her she’s not alone. I don’t have to say it, because my presence proves it. She won’t thank me, because it touches on a need she doesn’t know she has.
Even though it seems like I have nothing to give her, I know the gift of prayer is priceless. She might not ask for it, but she receive it easily, as I pull her into my arms and ask for God’s favor on her day, His protection, His overcoming power. She’s scared and nervous and thrilled and overwhelmed. Who wouldn’t be sailing in her first competitive regatta.
Even though it seems like my role is diminishing, I know she needs me there for those teachable moments that come through experience not lecture. The words she confesses as she fusses with her egg and I tell her to lower the heat, as I put in the laundry and she wonders if she should take some extra cash, as she searches for her flip flops and I find her mine.
I’m not done being her mom, even though my role has changed. She still needs me, and I realize I still need her, too. Motherhood is a sanctifying journey. We learn as they grow. We’re transformed as they are trained. We’re molded more into the likeness of Christ, all the while we’re in hot pursuit of seeing that reality it them.
I might have sent her off this morning with a gentle calm in my spirit, but there is a storm brewing in my soul. I’m keenly aware that our time together is limited, and I feel that weight of that truth laying upon me heavy. I force myself to remember that God’s in charge, as I fight off worry of injury and accidents around each turn. This is where I become the student again instead of the teacher, having to practice exactly what I urge others to do in the face of fear (2 Corinthians 10:5). This is where I have to live today, in a new lesson of motherhood.
Will I trust God with my everything, remembering that the one I just sent off was never mine but belongs to Him?
Hebrews 10:23
“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised if faithful.”
What is God asking you to trust Him with today?
How is He showing you that you’re not yet done being a mom?
Oh how this ministers to my heart.
Thanks for letting me know, Ginger! To God be the glory!
Thank you for sharing. I just sent off my oldest daughter to college and have 3 more at home with me. We live overseas so we are very far from our daughter and I cannot be the one to drive to pick her up and take her out to eat to cheer her freshman loneliness or have her come home for the weekend to make her breakfast and remind her she is still part of this family BUT it has been in this needy state that I have seen the sweet provision of the Lord to provide for her what I cannot. My faith has grown and so has hers. During our brief time in the US this summer, she commented as we were driving across the eastern portion of the US visiting friends that she hopes one day to have friends like ours. That is something only the Lord can do as we trust Him with everything. He really is trustworthy.
Kristina, thank you for sharing your heart about your daughter and the struggle of being so far away! Yes, you are certainly learning how to trust the Lord with her!
“Even though it seems like my role is diminishing, I know she needs me there for those teachable moments that come through experience not lecture.”
And this is where I sit really with my oldest too. She is so grown and honestly I can’t believe who she is becoming. But this is a sweet reminder that she needs me, still.
Thanks friend for this sweet word today!