Holding My Children Loosely...

…because they are not my children.

First, sorry to those of you who were waiting with baited breath for Turism's interview :).  We could not get her video to load and finally concluded our internet was too slow.  I would need to get to a coffee shop or something and when I have the time to do that, I will let you know :).

Something has been on my mind, day in and day out, the last few weeks.  After reading a friend's blog recently, I believe she put this so well:

"And since this is the thing…that cuts to our hearts as mommies more than any other thing…I’m just going to put it out there.  I’m going to share with you the secret I have learned through this endless year of pain.  The ultimate secret to protecting your kids from this world’s deep suffering…

You can’t.

At all.

You.  Just.  Can’t.

You can’t actually, really, protect them from anything.  And what hurts so bad is that we kind of think we can.  We pack their lunches in the morning, and pray against that little bully on the playground they may have to face.  We stick the Barbie band-aide on their scraped up knees and think, “I’m going to make sure I stop you the next time you run full speed ahead into that tree outside by the driveway.”  We wipe the tears from their chubby little cheeks and we vow, “I’m never going to let someone say that to you ever again.”

I know you think these things…because I I’ve thought the same things.  Yesterday.  This morning.  And tomorrow too, probably.

But I am here to tell you, if I have learned one thing it's…you are far less powerful than you think.

You can buckle their seat belts.  And fold their laundry.  And make their PB & J’s.  But you are not writing their story.

You are only reading it.

Line by line.  Page by page.

And you have no idea, and even less control…over the story that a Sovereign God has written for your children’s lives.

I’m so sorry to say this.  And no one hates this more than me.  But those are the breaks."

I do spend a lot of time trying to protect my children.  When they are hurt, I hurt SO. MUCH. MORE.  And I do everything it takes to keep them from pain.  I attend preschool so I am in the room and won't let other kids bully or hurt them.  I homeschool (for many reasons, of course) to protect them from unwanted situations.  I meet their friends (and their friends' parents!) and always offer our house as the play date (can I call it this when they're in high school??) so I know what's happening and limit what their exposed to.  

And yet, the one thing I cannot protect them from is…me.  Every night, memories from the day swirl in and I think about how I hurt my kids that day.  What I said.  What I didn't say.  Missed opportunities to sit and talk because I was too busy, too tired, didn't notice there was an opportunity.  How I exploded over something.  How I lectured vs. saying calmly, mind-you, "Please don't do that.".  How I didn't give that third hug at bedtime because I was SO DONE and just wanted out of there.  

Honestly, I hate that I am set up for failure.

I am not perfect.  I am never going to be.  There is going to be numerous things that my kids will wind up in counseling for.  I have already told them I will foot the bill.

But, as I grieve over my sin, I am recognizing that God has set this up.  He is writing their stories and guess who is the hero?  It's not me.  He comes in as the perfect Father, loving Savior, ever-present Being, who always knows, always understands, always loves and always reacts to every situation perfectly.  

If that were me, they wouldn't need Him. I have to be ok with being the stagehand, not the star. 

Because He gets to write the story...for His glory.