(Am I the only mom who finds herself singing everything to the tune of the Frozen theme song?)
It was the fall of 2006 and I’d just joined my first homeschooling group. We were having a moms night and there was a special guest—an experienced homeschooler whose kids were grown. Though I was super shy and pretty nervous, being brand new at it all, I really wanted to share what I felt God had been putting so strongly on my heart about praying for my children. I only had four little ones at the time, and the concept of praying for my kids’ future was still new to me.
To make a long story short, and to keep my smoke detectors from going off, I’ll sum up the conversation by saying that the more experienced mom didn’t think this kind of prayer was crucial. After all, my oldest was only six years old and, as she put it, it wasn’t time for that yet.
So what did I do with the clear direction God had put on my heart? Why, I did what anyone else would do when they’re trying to get out of something difficult. I believed that old serpent and figured I’d start the serious prayers later on when it got “closer to time.”
Recently, I’ve had the opportunity to wallow in the guilt as my husband and I have been discussing letting our oldest attend youth group at the church we recently joined. The atmosphere here in Arkansas is very different than where we grew up in Oregon and my husband is excited for her to have the opportunity to minister and grow alongside others her age. He’s planning on attending with her and is looking forward to all the great memories they’ll make together. I, on the other hand, am not at all excited. I’m totally losing it.
Here I am in that place I once thought was so far off—one teenage daughter only four years away from the age I was when I married her dad, and a son who will be a teenager before the year’s out. It’s time to start thinking about specific directions for the education and training they’ll need in those adult years. Of course, I’ve prayed for my kids’ futures now and then, but not at all like I was convicted to that seemingly long ago fall. I’m having to give up some control now and I’m not at all happy about it. I’m definitely not ready to let others speak into her life without me being right there to monitor every. single. word. (Never mind that my husband will be there…)
Trust me–I’m feeling the guilt. Guilt that I haven’t been praying for my kids as fervently as I was once convicted to. Guilt that I have a hard time finding the uncrossable line when it comes to being in the world but not of it. Guilt, or maybe just sadness, that I so easily forget to trust in God’s awesome plan for each of my kids—these kids that will be my brothers and sisters in Christ much longer than they’ll be mine to direct in whatever super duper non-dangerous path suits me.
Just like my children are growing and finding the right direction for their lives, I, as God’s little child, am also stumbling along a path I’ve never been on. God really has been directing our family and leading us on a good path. It’s goona take some guts, but I will trust in his Word and in his promises, and I’ll do my very best to let go of that guilt.
The truth is that I’m not really running out of time. I have established a relationship with my kids that will look different depending on where we are in life, but the potential to guide them as they grow into adults will always be there if I remember that I’m to be a wise council and not a fear-filled control freak.
