My Greatest Work
A few nights ago I attended an event that ran really late and when I finally got home the house was dark and still. I began to put my things away before heading upstairs when something caught my eye.
My youngest son, who is almost twelve, was up and waiting for me while the rest of the house slept. He was dressed in his favorite camo PJ’s and hiding in the corner of our living room, waiting with excitement for our eyes to meet. He grinned from ear to ear when they finally did.
I know this boy. I felt the hand of God knitting him together long before he was introduced to the rest of the world. I know his weaknesses and his strengths. I know what hurts him and what makes him laugh.
I know that his heart beats twice before mine beats once. The doctor said it’s a normal condition that happens in healthy boys, but I know that God has filled him with double the passion of most.
He is incredibly impulsive, jumping out before he thinks. Ironically, this can be a powerful gift when it is patiently turned in the right direction. He is fearless about his ideas, confident that they will work out… every time. I have listened to his dreams and I have witnessed the things that really scare him. When he talks a big game, I can pick up on the specific insecurities that motivate all of his words.
This is the knowledge that I have been charged to hold close and protect as his mother. This kind of information can be a powerful key that can be used to unlock his potential or it can be a devastating weapon that can leave him broken. When we truly know each other we become key keepers to each other’s hearts.
Deep love uses the data that we gather about each other to edify and not to destroy. This has been one of the most sanctifying aspects of being his mother; learning to take care of each piece of his heart that he has trusted me to hold.
There is a power that I yield in his life that requires Grace to keep it in sharp balance. As a parent, I am held accountable to that power that I have been given. Abusing that power is no laughing matter. There are consequences when we carelessly mishandle our children’s hearts.
For a time, as he grows in the knowledge of who he is, I hold his precious identity in the palm of my hands. An identity that God trusted me to speak over him when he allowed me to co-create. There is no other soul in the world that I will have a greater influence over in my life than both of my boys. When they grow and leave the comforts of their childhood home, they will carry with them who I said they were. Let that identity be only Truth!
A sobering thought occurred to me the very next morning as I prayed. What will I do when the house is dark and still and I find that there is no one waiting up for me? I know there will be a time soon when brothers are not wrestling each other upstairs, rattling the fancy chandelier in the dining room below. What will I do each morning when there are no lunches to pack, reminders to give or fruity pebbles stuck like glue to bowls that have been left in the kitchen sink too long?
How will I respond when someone speaks an identity over them that is not Truth, when those who carry the keys to their hearts outside of this home use that power against them? Will I watch with hands cupped over my eyes as the world tells them that they are not good enough, strong enough or smart enough. What will I do when their trusted authorities tell them that they do not belong here or that they do not deserve to be there?
When it seems as though the world is trying to unravel all that I have taught them, I will choose to remember that they are my greatest work!
I will remember the time that I took to intentionally brush each stroke carefully on the canvas of their lives. The hours that I showed them love and offered lessons and spoke Truth about who they are. I will recall each morning that I confirmed their worth… they are enough, good enough, strong enough and smart enough. The bruises that I nursed and the meals that I cooked and the beds that I made, all of it mattered. All of it still matters. It will be their safety when the world shoots its fiery darts.
Even when they are gone from this home, I will get on my knees early in the morning and pray, just like I have every day of their lives. I will trust that God gave me an incredibly impossible job to do and that His Grace was sufficient to fill every hole, gap or need in my mothering. I will finally understand when the time comes and my boys have to stand on their own and believe God’s Truth about who they are, that every single day that I tended to their souls, their bellies and their home mattered greatly.
When the house is quiet and the noise of little feet no longer fill the hallways, I will trust that I did my job to honor what God designed me to do as a mother. That I held their hearts close and protected who they are. That I understood what a great responsibility it is to be called Mom and that I rose to the occasion by His overwhelming Mercy and Grace.
I will take a deep breath and know that they will be ok… more than ok.