Thursday, May 24, 2012

let them go.

"We both loved her in a way we had not loved the boys before our experience with Drew. Each moment was encapsulated in our minds forever, each touch transformed into a memory. While we loved her so deeply, we also loved her outside of ourselves. What do I mean? With the boys, I loved them inside of me, holding on to them tightly. With Piper, I have loved her outside of myself, lifting her up to share her, loving her knowing she's not really mine but God's. I really cannot put words to it, but a Precious Moments figurine I found shortly after Drew died best describes the difference. She stands holding a beautiful star up, hands held high in front of her. When I saw it, I immediately thought of Drew, and how my love for him had been transformed from one that wanted to cling to him forever, holding tightly and desperately to him, to one that loved him even more deeply, willing to let him go, willing to share him, willing to give him to one greater than I. That picture has changed me as a mother."  (source, emphasis mine)

I came across this blog post the other day, and it completely blew me open.  This is just a small section of it, but the basic premise of this family's blog is that of loss, yet joy in God's providence and grace and love.  They have one healthy son, lost one son recently to disease, and discovered that their infant daughter has the same disease.

I have been thinking a lot about relationship lately...mostly things along the lines of:

- how is it that I am loved?
- how can I emanate love to others?
- how do I NOT raise my children with a spirit of fear?
- how can I let people in?
- how does anyone's focus change from themselves to Jesus?
- how do I daily give my children back to God?

It's not a subject to take lightly, and I often find myself either shutting down and refusing to deal with it anymore (for the moment) or dissolving in prayerful tears, asking for mercy and transformation for the inadequacy I feel I represent in every major relationship in my life.

I find it incredibly freeing, yet incredibly heart-wrenching that my children are not my own.  In one sense, there is great freedom in knowing that, though they are my given responsibility to love, nurture, and raise; ultimately, they are part of God's plan and He has ideas of His own for them that might not be mine.  On the other hand, how scary that I don't know God's plan!  What if one of my children...
...becomes a victim of a bully,
...falls prey to disease,
...has a developmental disorder,
...decides to pursue missionary work in a third world country,
...becomes a prodigal child,
...or any other number of scary, risk-taking endeavors?

How is it that I can't have control of my children?

All I know is this: they are God's, and really, they are/will be (I pray and hope) my brothers in Christ some day.  I have been specially chosen to be their mother for this life.  May I listen to my Abba and theirs about His plan for them, and do the work set before me, without holding too tightly.

It's the daily struggle to love, nurture, protect, and then - trust enough to let them go.  

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