“Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful.” (Colossians 4:2 NIV)
Tomorrow is the day that’s been circled on the family calendar for months. Our youngest is leaving for college in the morning. Wide-eyed and seventeen: I recognize this girl. I was her only twenty-five years ago. I can still recall the lure, the thrill and the sweet anticipation of my first semester of college. Sarah’s the same: a heart full of adventure, ready and raring to engage in her real life.
This morning I was cooking her favorite meal in the kitchen and I went to her room to ask her opinion on something. I didn’t realize she had stepped out on the porch to take a phone call. I entered her room at full speed, mind full of my question and expecting to find her. I didn’t not anticipate being affronted by the emptiness. See, I’ve been intentionally avoiding her bedroom for days now: it’s too tough to watch her treasures come off the walls and out of closets to be packed away into tubs and suitcases. I turned around immediately, tears already welling as though they’d been just under the surface all week. I ran right to Rob’s waiting arms and he held me tight “I know. I know.”
All this letting go is getting real.
A few years ago in the months before Mother’s Day, the Lord led me through Psalm 84. Through that text, He taught me all about babies leaving the nest. At that house, there was an ornamental cherry tree outside my study and one day a greatly endowed robin flew in and began assembling her nest. I remember sitting as still as possible, watching her hard at work. A few weeks later five bright blue blotches appeared, brilliant badges of purest hope nestled in the bed twigs and leaves. Time passed. Momma Robin hovered; I could feel her concern through the windowpane that stood between us. And then, it happened. One by one these blue jewels cracked and split as life peaked out. I wondered over the bitty, pink babies. I delighted as Mom and Dad came and went with wriggling worms, patiently feeding the gaping, screeching, open beaks. I held my breath as the tiny birds learned to take first steps on cherry blossomed branches. I cried when they each finally opened their wings and never came back.
Back to our own baby chick: Rob and I are so excited for her. We wouldn’t clip her wings for one second. Instead we will smile and cheer and treasure each moment. We will surely tend to our own hearts when she soars away. I keep thinking of Ruth Chou Simms words, she wrote them this week as her eldest of five took first flight and I felt them in my soul.
“It’s like stewarding the impossible task of shaping a life and then finding that the important task is releasing your stewardship.” (Ruth Chou Simms)
The further I get into this mothering gig the more I’m convinced it is never over. Mothering only transforms with the passage of time. Parenting begins as awesome responsibility: we protect and train and teach until one day they stumble out into the world and then most of what is left as parents is done on our knees, right? Our responsibility as parents never lifts; it shifts. Prayer becomes our primary investment as our children mature.
This truth is solidifying in me through life experience. Yesterday was my husband’s birthday and we three piled in the car and drove to San Antonio to include our boy in the celebration. We had a wonderful time in each other’s company: turns out our kids have become our favorite people on the planet. We had dinner and presents (the staff at Five Guys enjoyed the show immensely.) We went to a movie followed by frozen custard. And when our brief blip of time together was through we hugged and prayed in the parking lot.
We have become the family that prays in the parking lot because that is where we meet and part. Our kids know that they can come to us with any request and we are going to bring their needs before the Father because that’s what godly parents do.
Please understand, I am not bragging on our family. Not so very long ago, we nearly shattered. But prayer is the piece that brought us back together and the farther we go, the more I am convinced that prayer will hold us together in the days and months and years to come.
Moms and Dads, please pray. It’s easy and natural to worry. It’s hard work to pray. But it is, perhaps, our most important task as parents. Surely it is the one responsibility we never lay down. Be the family that prays in parking lots. Keep putting your kids in front of the Lord. They may be adults but they still need His help and your intercession.
“Pray continually.” (1 Thessalonians 5:17 NIV)
“I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people…” (1 Timothy 2:1 NIV)
Dear Lord, please strengthen our resolve to pray for our children, even as they become adults. We realize anew that our job is never through. Thank You for entrusting these precious people to our stewardship, we release them to Your capable care. Amen.
PS: Just as I was finishing up this post, our son texted, asking for prayer about a potential teaching position. Praise God, our boy knows where to find the support he needs!