Labels: devotions, letting go, parenting
"Help me Mommmmmy! I'm twapped!"
I heard the little panicked cry from the living- room. To be entirely honest- I didn't exactly run from the bathroom to his rescue.
Like the little boy who cried wolf, we've been here before- not all Noah crisis' are real. Most are imagined. (Like standing in the pantry screaming to be rescued when all he has to do is push the door open.) I learned a long time ago not to freak.
I finished my lip-liner and gloss before I went on my rescue mission.
OOPS. This time it was true. I found him lying in front of the armoire that holds the TV in the livingroom. His left arm -up to just above the elbow- was mostly out of view. It was pinned under the armoire.
The armoire is a pretty typical 7 feet tall and thousand pounds of oak, particle board and media equipment with flashing clocks. If you toss in an additional 10 pounds of accumulated dust - (somebody really SHOULD clean that) you've got the picture.
I tried to pull it out. No go. He screamed.
I tried the "wiggle method." Nada.
I thought about butter- then, thought about the beige carpet. "Not that desperate, yet." I thought.
I pulled again- He screamed. Again. Louder.
"Stop screaming- I can't think" I yelled. (volume helps? right? ) I was starting to freak- just a little.
I thought about all those news stories I've heard- about parents suddenly being able to lift cars off of their pinned children. I tried to move the armoire. Nothing. (it was worth a shot.) Incredible Hulk Mom- I am not.
The thought of having to call the fire department to free my child from the monster armoire was not appealing. I looked at my watch- (the flashing clocks are useless) I wondered if I could keep him busy playing one handed gameboy until my teenagers came. They are pretty strong- I was convinced the three of us could lift it.
"What were you doing?" I asked him. More to kill time, than to get an answer. "I had to get my TOY!" My mind instantly went to all the stories about monkeys with their hands in coconuts "Are you still HOLDING it?" I asked.
"I have to get it" He said. Sheesh. A classic. I live in a monkey house. No doubt about it.
It took some convincing- and the locating of an implement to prove that I would fish the toy out as soon as his ARM and BODY were out of the way.
He finally relaxed his grip- we bent his elbow and he was free. Just a few red marks and that faded pretty quick. No permanent damage or butter messes. What a relief.
"I love you mommy, thanks for rescuing me" He said.
I had to laugh. I didn't exactly "rescue" him..... he just let go of the toy.
Funny- I'm pretty sure that from God's perspective I've had my arm stuck for a while- too. Holding onto something, refusing to let it go and but not able to hold on and make it work.
I wonder what would happen if I just let it go? Would he be able to rescue the thing I love? Would He fish it out and hand it to me?
It just might be worth a try.Matthew 16:24-25
"Then Jesus said to his disciples, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it."
"Dear Jesus- help me not be stubborn- trying to rescue myself or hold onto and grab for things on my own that you want to freely give me- I love you Lord- please help me to stop bein a Monkey mom- amen. Oh- and thnx for helping me figure out how to free the boy....the butter would have been a bad idea."
I researched for weeks. I went to every toy-store/baby supply store in Michigan. I carefully examined each possibility. Some looked uncomfortable. Some weren't soft enough. I was Goldilocks in search of the carseat that would be "just right." Our budget was newly-wed/ newly parent tight. I debated the practicality of an infant carseat that would only be usable for a short time. But when compared to the convertible infant toddler seat, there was no further thought needed. The infant seat was cushy, soft and would cradle my baby, not quite as well as my arms, but the seat would be safer, if not as comfy. We bit the budget bullet and ate macaroni and cheese for a month. We bought the cushy, safe seat. Later, we did it again to upgrade to the toddler seat. Finally, we moved our little guy to a booster seat, then the big-boy seat belt, his feet dangling, but not quite reaching the floorboards. I swear it was yesterday. No- yesterday (well a few days since) it was my two oldest climbing into a Mustang convertible (the irony of that being my all time favorite and never ridden in car is not lost on this momma;) with a friend of theirs and heading off to Walmart. There were no carefully chosen carseats. There was no Mom adjusting the seatbelts. Their feet no-longer dangle. They are old enough to drive themselves. My two oldest sons are men now- no longer children. They are good guys. They have level heads on their shoulders. They wear their seatbelts without fuss. They do their homework. (Mostly) They choose their friends well. I am proud. I am glad. I am relieved that they survived fevers, stitches and asthma attacks. I'm glad that I haven't totally "wrecked them". (I suppose the jury is technically still out on that one- but so far-so good;) I like my guys. I like who they are and who they are becoming. We're not picking carseats anymore- we're visiting colleges. Discussing options for career paths, instead of toddler seat versus infant seats. The decisions are no longer mine to make. I have input, but not control. I remember as a young parent, being at the park, or the grocery store, and having a gray haired smiling face lean in close to mine, whispering, "Treasure this time, it goes so fast." I remember praying that I could survive a showerless, un-ending new mom day, and thinking that if one more person told me to treasure it- I would scream. In their face. Later I could plea post-partum. I would thoroughly enjoy it. Before I had the chance to, I must have blinked. When I did, the carseat turned to a convertible. The worst part? I realized all those smiling gray heads were right. The days do seem to crawl- but the years slip by at light speed. I am in an interesting place. I am both a Mother of young adults and a Mom of a Kindergartener. I am not rushing through this one. I know by experience how fast time goes. There is a carseat in the back of my old SUV for my youngest today, but he'll be driving it (probably the same one, I now realize, as we prepare our budget for college expenses!) tomorrow. Left to my own devices, I'd be afraid. I like control. I feel most confident when I have the most control. I had a lot of control in choosing a carseat. I was confident that I had made the safest decision. I have little control or even illusion of control anymore. It should scare me. But- mostly- I'm not. I know- that my guys are in the safest carseat of their lives. They are in God's very own hands. He has a plan for their lives. Sure, it probably includes pain and learning the hard way and sickness and most likely even loss. But by experience- I also know- that whatever "wrecks" or "car accidents" that happen in their lives- He will be there to comfort and to heal. He will be there to guide and direct. He always has been for me. I trust His plan. (Even though I sometimes wish it could be different) Jeremiah 29:11 " For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to Dear Jesus- please help me move through this next phase of mothering- as my guys drive around top-down in convertibles- help me to trust in your plan for them. God- I pray that ypu'd always be close to them as a a carseat- giving them protection, healing them when hurt and drawing them ever closer to your heart. I love you Lord- and thank you for the privilege of being their mom-and cheif car-seat chooser- amen. Labels: carseat, convertibles, letting go, mothering, teens
prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
Labels: letting go, nesting, parenting
I've always lived in a nest. Like a robin- I've had a number of them. My nest has had so many shapes. A tiny third floor apartment. That I bought croscill curtains for - so at least SOMETHING would be pretty against the walls with corners softened by so many layers of cheap paint.
A duplex with a basement. And a yard- where we planted a garden of dirt. (Nothing grew, but it was fun)
Another duplex with a deck- on a dirt road that had a few houses and a few industrial complexes. We eventually bought half of it (yes- half) on a land contract... it became the first place we actually "owned"....
A small house on a typical street with sidewalks and a basement. Sidewalks that made me cry. I desperately wanted someplace safe for my kids to be able to play and ride "bigwheels."
Finally- a nice place in a tiny cul-de-sac with trees, and sidewalks and plenty of space. A home that has experienced growth- both inside and out. And- as I've recently come to understand- a home that is quickly becoming a launching pad.
Every place we've lived has been special. But honestly, some have been places that were rough. They weren't all really places I wanted to raise kids... but they were places we were blessed to have... they were each. Home. Our nest. Regardless of what surrounded- or how loud, scary or rough the neighbors were....or how many huge trucks rambled through each day...(at a few places the police were often spotted) we nested. We made them ours. Outside there may have been rough twigs and branches- but inside? A soft down filled nest.
A nest that will, much too soon, become emptier.
The mail every day reminds me of this. Letters and packages from colleges arrive nearly daily. (they also make me wonder how we're gonna pay for 2 kids in college...) My oldest will be 18 in December. And- he wants to go away to school.
He wants to leave the nest.
He wants to fly. My words have returned to haunt me......as he prepares to fly... I'm smacked with the act that this is what we've always been preparing for.... but now have to experience. Not in theory. But, in life.
I remember one of my very first (of way too many) arguments with my mother in law. It was over a parents role in the live of her children. (Oh I was soooo wise at 19 without kids) Her perspective was that you BE THERE or your kids forever- that they always need you. Which, in a way is true---- but even then- I knew she somehow had skewed. (Can you say rescuing?)
My perspective was- (and still is) that you spend your time preparing your kids to be independant. To care for themselves- be responsible. Sometimes this is done by being there- and sometimes by letting them learn the hard way. We fought.
I may even have yelled. (ummmm yeah, I'm pretty sure I did- I usually do when I'm passionate... which is well... mostly always!)
What I didn't know then...but am learning now... was how hard it would actually be!
I prayed that I'd be someday launching (sounds better than pushing from the nest) my kids. As men. And now it's nearly here. The oldest will go away to school, in just over a year. This all the youngest will be in school. the middle one will continue in high school- then... go to college as well.
My time with a nest full is ending.
I wonder what it will be like? I wonder if there are enough good memories of home... I wonder if I've said what needs to be said.... given enough love, enough discipline, been tough enough- soft enough....
In a way it feels like an hourglass has been flipped. The sand is running out. I feel like I'm losing something. But I also feel like the sand is running into the bottom of the glass- preparing to be turned on end, and start a whole new life.... for my guys my husband and me.
So. I've been nesting. Getting my house in order. Making sure the nest they leave is as safe- and wonderful as possible. Every time I clean their toilet... I feel different. I feel like there are only so many more times that I will have this opportunity.
It's like the nesting I experienced before each of them were born. Maybe, it's crazy. Maybe it's midlife. (ummm well- if it is, it could be much worse!) We've replaced creaky toilet seats... leaky faucets, fixed broken things, filled holes in walls.....replaced the dishwasher....I've been waxing the hardwood weekly.
Weird. My response to college prep and kindergarten prep--- is nesting.
Maybe, it's reverse nesting. Preparing the nest for flight. The argument with my MIL comes full circle- now it's my turn... they won't need me the same as they do now- and did in years past. It feels good- in a way... and yet, is sad. Frightening- and exciting. But still- like the sand is running out. It makes me pray for them more than ever. It makes me savor this time more than ever. It makes me trust God more than ever.... because-
I don't know the future. For me- or for them... but, I trust the one who does.
"Dear Jesus- as my guys continue to grow- to stretch their wings and prepare to fly- I pray that you will be the constant. I pray that you'll give them a flight path...that honors you- and more than anything- lies them closer to you... I love you lord- amen."
Also- today is Tuesday- my post is up at Laced with Grace! Stop by and find out about public nudity..... yeah- well kind of!
