I keep putting off writing a blog because I feel like I have to say something profoundly spiritual, but I realize most of life is ordinary. On the surface, at least. Behind the scenes, in the spiritual realm, God is busy. We can’t see it, thankfully, but it’s there.
My day-to-day, on the other hand, looks like a whole lot of me going to work, fixing my weekend batch of soup so I eat healthy lunches all week, watching NASCAR races with my husband, listening to my son talk tech, dreaming up stories, and writing those stories down when I have the rare chance.
Life winds along like a movie reel, faster and faster, until I realize, where has the time gone?
My baby boy—my cherub with the blond, curly hair, blue eyes, and infectious laugh—is making plans to move out of the house and start life on his own.
My emotions are up and down. Sometimes I feel sad. Other times I feel excited for him.
As I’ve been going through the last eighteen years of pictures, I remember nearly every moment. The Minions costumes that my husband made the boys for Halloween. (They were practically museum-worthy. He went all out.) The visits to the strawberry patch and the apple orchard. Walking through the corn maze at the pumpkin patch. So many Christmas mornings.
It’s tempting, and natural, to feel sadness. Loss. Where is my little boy?
Can I just give him one more hug? Can he fall asleep on my arm as he chews on his pacifier, both of us sprawled on the couch? Can he run toward me in utter excitement one more time, like he did when I picked him up from daycare?
The days and years have been happy and joyful. God has shown me Himself through the precious innocence of a little boy. I could see God in every smile and every laugh, in the awe that my son felt when he saw his first snow, or the simple excitement he expressed when opening a present, or his joy when seeing his baby sister for the very first time.
When my kids were little, I didn’t have time to think about me. I was focused on them and their needs. My time and attention went to serving them instead of myself.
What’s going to happen to me when my children have all moved out? Who will show me pure, unconditional love? Where will I see God?
The truth is, though children are a gift, they aren’t supposed to be our source of joy. Our source should always be God and His Son. And the wonderful truth is, Jesus isn’t going anywhere. And neither is His church. Opportunities abound within the body of Christ to serve and be served. There, we can watch God work as His children practice being the hands and feet of Jesus.
While I have been focused on my kids, rightfully so, my relationship with Jesus has gotten lost. It’s hard for me to admit, but it’s true.
I’ve treated Him as I’ve treated many of my earthly relationships, often to my own dismay, like they will always exist in some sort of suspension. We part ways, and when we meet again on the street, we pick up where we left off.
And that’s true, often. Many relationships in life are like that.
But it’s not the same as doing life together. It’s not bearing each other’s burdens, or being shoulders to cry on, or rejoicing together.
As my eldest son enters a new chapter, I’d like to enter one of my own, one where I’m not holding Jesus at arm’s length with the intent of catching back up with Him when we happen to run into each other.
I want a daily relationship where I give Him the heartache of watching my son walk out the door, of losing that little boy to the hands of time.
I’d also like to reconnect with my local church and find people to pray with, to share life with, and maybe even grow old with.
This is me reaching out, connecting, sharing my burdens, and making myself available. My shoulder is ready.
Are you feeling burdened today? How can I pray for you?