Unexpected

Life. Sometimes it surprises you in the most pleasant of ways. Other times it wrecks you so hard that it hurts to breathe.

I've been going through a grieving process over the last few months. My adult children are doing adult things. They are making their own way in this world, without me to hold their hands, kiss their skinned knees or brush the hair from their face as they sleep at night. That hurts. Its the kind of pain that you can't fathom, you can try to imagine it, but the actuality of it doesn't even come close.

No one warns you of how hard it will be when your children- your heart beat- your sunshine- when they grow up and you are forced to let them go. No one tells you how it will feel as if a part of you has died. No one mentions that you will find yourself up at 2 in the morning wracked with anxiety, wondering if they've made it home safely, is it raining where they are, what if the roads are slippery. No one has words of wisdom about this part of parenting, until its already happened and you are already a mess over it.

I remember bringing my first born home from the hospital and my mother telling me, "Treasure these moments, they grow up so fast." I absolutely remember looking her in the eyes and thinking...i have a whole life time with him.  She was right.

I had dreams and hopes and wants for my children. I pictured them becoming adults and doing very specific things with their own lives. I wanted them to be happy and successful and community driven. I wanted them to discover what they love and chase that passionately. I wanted them to love God more than anything or anyone else.

We don't always get what we want. It's their life to live not mine. Some of the things they have done on their own have made me smile so big, some of the things they have done on their own have made me hit my knees and cry out to God from the deepest part of my heart and soul...

So here I am. It's 1:45 in the morning and I can't sleep. I laid in bed staring blankly into the dark. The tears started to stream down my cheeks. I could feel the wetness of the pillow under my head. I started to weep harder and deeper. I tried to explain my thoughts to my husband but my voice just cracked and shook and I just cried even more.

I keep wondering about the kind of mother I was to them, the kind of mother I am still. Was I loving enough? Was I supportive enough? Did I spend enough quality time with them? Did they feel important? Did they see Jesus in me? I know they love me, but do they like me? Did I do everything in my power to prepare them for this cold cruel world?

Those thoughts cripple me these days. I sit down at my computer to write a paper on criminal law and I soon realize that my fingers have stopped typing and my mind is wandering. I think about them and what they must be doing in that moment. I wonder if they miss me. I wonder if I called them sobbing if I could guilt them into coming back home. Back to me.

Three words. Feet to faith. Who knew that my adult children leaving home would challenge me in the most intense, most soul shaking of ways. I've heard that phrase thrown around my entire Christian walk. I've probably thrown that phrase around myself. This part of my life, this constant anxiety, this painful uncertainty, this is my time to live out those three words. Feet to faith. God is who He says He is. I have to trust Him with my children, all of them. And I do. I just wish it didn't hurt so much.

Because i'm human, because my mind is full of crazy and chaos, Jesus has to be enough. I'm so thankful that He loves me through my insanity. I'm so thankful that when He sees me, He sees a daughter who is chosen, set a part, and worth it. I couldn't go through my days, especially these particular days, without the grace and mercy and love of God.

Jesus is enough. That is my truth. He is the hope that I cling to. I know I am not alone. Mothers have been mourning the cutting of the apron strings for hundreds of years. They survived, and I will too. If my story is your story, tell me about it. I love a good story- I'm a great listener. Let's laugh and cry and love each other through it together...


Love first, love more, love always,
Angy