|Youngest on his first Mother's Day with us. We had just adopted him.|
I think I have bought my last shopping cart of sports drinks. Only youngest gulps them to rehydrate after basketball or a hard day at work. And the day for youngest to move out is around the corner.
It seems like months since I felt my insides gnawed and ripped apart as youngest announced his decision to move out, become independent, experience life free from the watchful mother eye. Now as that day nears, I have an unbelievable peace. One I'm not sure I even understand fully. But I know God has been at work paving the way, preparing both of us for this inevitable time.
Youngest made a point of having nighttime conversations with me. He endeavored to establish a solid bond of communication and reassure me of his love before moving out. He heart-shared. I relaxed a bit. The threatening aspect of his departure diminished.
We had these talks for a couple of weeks until he landed the high-paying job that would financially secure his ability to survive. Survive without my watchful eye. While he waited to hear from the future employer, I prayed for God's will, yet secretly hoped that the delay meant youngest would be home longer.
Once youngest landed this now dream job, I saw less and less of him. He was running ragged, holding down both his part-time and full-time job. It seemed absurd and unnecessary to me. Any free time, youngest spent with friends. The talks and Sunday dinners were evaporating.
Confusion and tension threatened to dismantle the bridge between us that he had endeavored to build. More questions than answers plagued us during this suspended time. Hubby managed a Father-Son talk about budgeting and youngest was grateful. Somehow we covered all the essential topics. Lease. Insurance. Vehicle Title. Cell Phone. Responsibility.
Matters of the heart were tip-toed around. Tension engulfed us like a fog. At times, the air was electrified like a storm. But youngest always tried to end with an, "I love you." I responded back the same. You could feel his effort.
The announcement came just before Easter. Youngest and his friend had located a new apartment, close to home and work. He had signed a six-month lease and would be moving in at the end of May.
The churning resurfaced. The distance between us painful.
It was time to clear schedules and talk. In the coziness of our family room, we talked heart issues, not practical "how tos". Concerns, feelings, reasons. How to hold onto love. In the gentleness of this moment, I discovered that youngest had made some wise, adult decisions. He discovered that we were not trying to control his life but help direct him in wisdom. Church and college were also discussed and some plans made. Hope and peace began to blossom in my heart. Sensations I had not expected to experience.
The Spirit's whisperings of assurance were infusing this moment in time with the peace that passed my understanding. When youngest left the room to visit with friends, I fell back on the couch amazed and thanking the Lord for this wondrous gift. Throughout these past two months, He had been preparing me for this moment of letting go. Through the long talks, the tension, the fears, the desires to hold tight, He was preparing my heart to let go and say with grace, "I love you."
Peace came just in the nick of time. Just when I needed it most. But then God promises us grace only for the moment we need it. Not for the future worry or the past regret. Just for the day.
In a C. H. Spurgeon quote from "Salvation is of the Lord," Sermon #131, he said, " So look day by day for fresh Grace! Frequently, too, the Christian wants to have Grace enough for a month vouchsafed to him in one moment. "Oh," he says, "what a host of troubles I have coming--how shall I meet them all? Oh, that I had enough Grace to bear me through them all!" My dear Friends, you will have Grace enough for your troubles, as they come, one by one!"
"So do not worry or be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will have worries and anxieties of its own. Sufficient for each day is its own trouble." Matthew 6:34 Amplified
From My Heart to Yours,
Linking with imperfect prose at emily's
Labels: Faith, Family, imperfect prose