This Mother’s Day will be my 25th as an official Mother. It’s kind of hard to believe for me. Being a Mom was something I always wanted to be, but it was also the scariest of propositions for me. From the day I found out I was pregnant with my first to today I’ve always had this awareness of what I lacked for being the Mom I should be. I’m sure if I was able to take a poll of all the moms out there that is what they would tell you too. It kind of comes with the territory. There’s always someone more creative, with a cleaner house, more respectful kids, healthier meals, happier husband, taking all the “me time” they need, and so on- kind of mom. For some reason “comparison” is the favorite game of moms all around. At least it was my game of choice for most of my childrearing years, and on occasion still is…
There’s nothing like having a little life to shape and mold as your primary responsibility, or maybe 2 lives, 3 lives, or in my case 4. Needless to say I’ve spent a lot of time praying and telling God “I have no idea what to do with … (fill in the blank with a name).” In fact, that’s a prayer I still use frequently and three of my four are adults now. I guess that may never stop.
Recently, I’ve been spending time in the book of Philippians in the Bible. The first chapter has a verse that I’ve thought of often in my journey of motherhood. Philippians 1:6 “being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” It’s a verse that I’ve often heard as an encouragement to an individual. The ol “don’t get discouraged, God isn’t finished with me yet.” kind of verse. But Paul was writing this to a group of friends, brothers/ sisters in Jesus, who he described as having them in his heart (Philippians 1:7) the ones he said he prayed for. Some of the same things I as a mother of grown kids can relate to. My adult children and my teen are in my heart. They have been in my heart since I heard the first heart beat in the ob/gyn office, and I pray for them, on the regular. I know that life, although full of joys and excitement, is very hard. The struggles they had while under my roof may have changed, but I know they are there. I was 20 something once and I struggled too. But I can say as Paul said about his spiritual family in Philippi, about my family, “God began a good work in them and He will finish it.” I’ve told young mothers who’ve worried about how to deal with the various challenges of infancy and toddlerhood, “Remember as much as you love that little angel, God loves them the same and then some.” Same applies at any age. God loves them the same as I do and then some. He doesn’t start a project to abandon it. He simply is not finished yet.
It’s hard to let God have our kids at any age. The reality of this hit me shortly after I brought my firstborn home from the hospital. I was a fear filled mother and SIDS was on the forefront of my mind. I would sit on the edge of my bed with a flashlight watching my son breathe in his bassinet. I remember praying, “God, I can’t stay awake 24/7. Sooner or later I will have to go to bed and trust Him to You for a few hours.” Not really understanding the reality that God not only had him when I slept, He had him when I was awake too. It really wasn’t all on me to keep him alive, but it was on God. Then the same kid turned 16, got a little blueish truck and hopped in it to drive to town. Once again I found myself scared of what could happen to a teenage male driver who believed he was invincible. I spent some time laying face first in my carpet asking God to bring him home safe, realizing it wasn’t about me at all, but totally about God. The for instances in this paragraph could go on and on, especially since I have four kids that I have prayed for, cried over, and felt so helpless at times to help. But thankfully by kid number four It’s getting a little easier to see just how much God has all these things even when I do not. (cheers instead of tears when he drove away newly licensed a few months ago.)
I’ve not reached Jedi master in this whole, faith filled mom who never worries about her kids’ next step and direction thing, but I do intend on holding fast to those words Paul penned so many centuries ago. Even though I am no longer able to call the shots, give the orders, put them in time out, or send them to bed. (Nor would I want to. I’m kind of enjoying the freedom. 🙂 ) I am able to bring them before God on the regular and I must trust that God will “carry on” His good work in them. I had to trust them with God while I slept as they were infants, and I must trust them with God as they take their wings and fly away.

My Grandpa was born in 1914. He died a few years ago just a few days shy of his 101st Birthday. When he was 4 years old the world was in the midst of another infamous pandemic, The Spanish Flu. I never heard him talk about it, so he may have been young enough to not remember it much, but I do remember hearing stories about his life during The Great Depression. How as a boy he hunted and fished, not for pleasure, but to help feed his siblings and himself, so much so that he wasn’t much a fan of either when he got older. He just went to the pond and watched us fish. He witnessed World War I and II, the Korean War, and Vietnam War, the war his oldest son fought in and was faced with uncertainty of how that would end up for him, he came home. He had loved ones born and loved ones die, among which were infant grandbabies. He lost a great grandson, my nephew in the Gulf of Aden- lost at sea while serving with the United States Navy. He saw marriages in the family, he saw divorces. He stood at the side of the casket of his only lifelong love of 60 plus years gazing at her and commenting on how young she looked, like the days before they had moved from Kansas decades before. He outlived all his siblings, 7 of them, and most of his friends. In fact towards the end, that fact kind of hit him- “I’m the last one left.”
From the time my girls were little bitty they were aspiring ballerinas. The love for the dance came with a gift of two tutus that a friend had found. Their Grandma took them and spruced them up. The girls, ages 3 and 5, fell in love with them the moment they put them on. Days and days, hours and hours of twirling and prancing around the house in what was just a hand me down. To them it was the ultimate princess outfit. As they grew the Barbie Movies- “The Nutcracker”, “Swan Lake”, etc. reinforced the desire to dance. As they grew, I finally got them set up with dance lessons with a friend. They were thrilled. I sat on the side lines as they learned the basic moves of ballet. Most of the time quietly whispering to the mom next to me as we visited and waited.
Every once in awhile I would hear the instructor give the girls a little tip on how to do one of the harder moves more effectively. In one of the dances they were learning, they were supposed to twirl from one corner of the rectangular dance floor to the other. A move that I am certain, if I attempted it, I would land flat on my back from the dizziness. Their instructor told them that the best way to make it from point A to point B while twirling across the floor was to have a focal point picked out on the wall that they were going to. She said to start by twirling slowly and to watch for the point with each turn as they moved towards it. Sure enough the more they practiced it, the more straight their path from point A to point B became and the less dizzy they felt.
(WARNING…Big word usage for End Times theories ahead. Stick with me there is a point in it.)


What a week! News nationally, state wide, and locally has gone from bad to worse. Our small town that seemed to be so isolated from it all has developed five local cases of Covid-19. I took comfort thinking, “At least I don’t live in the big city…” Now not so much any more…
As I laid my head on my pillow last night, I kept hearing the words, “Is Jesus Enough?” rolling around in my head. It seems quite unfair for all these bad events to culminate at once, and these are just the few I know of in my little corner of the woods. The more I thought about those words, “Is Jesus Enough?” The more I concluded, “Oh yes Lord, I know you are more than enough.”


