We just had our oldest son here for about ten days. Though saying good-bye was not as intense as the first time he left the nest, it never gets any easier.
My blog and Facebook feeds have been filled with posts about sending a child off to college. For some it's the first major separation, greater than the first sleepover or week of camp. That first extensive step away from home as adult offspring, whether to college or some other venue, heralds the time when our kids will fully leave the nest behind and start their own homes, families, careers, and traditions.
It's one thing when our adult children are going to people or places where we have every reason to trust they'll be safe and continue to grow spiritually. It's another thing when we have serious reservations about their pathway.
Monica, the mother of Augustine, is famous for praying faithfully for her son's salvation. At one point, he decided to go to Rome. Monica felt Rome would not be good for him. She pleaded with him not to go, so much so that Augustine eventually lied to her and then slipped away. But it was in Rome that Augustine met friends who were able to help him along in his understanding so that eventually he did come to the Lord.
Augustine wrote, "And what was it, O Lord, that she was asking of thee in such a flood of tears but that thou wouldst not allow me to sail? But thou, taking thy own secret counsel and noting the real point to her desire, didst not grant what she was then asking in order to grant to her the thing that she had always been asking."
That comforts me when my children want to go to unknown places with unknown people. God knows the places He has prepared for them and the people He wants them to meet.
When my kids were home, it was my nightly routine to check on them before I went to bed. When they were babies, I'd look for the rise and fall of their chests or place a hand on their backs to make sure they were breathing.
In their boyhood, I'd find them sprawled in all sorts of configurations on their beds, covers tangled or on the floor.
As they got older, I wouldn't actually open their doors any more while they slept. But I was comforted to know they were home safe in their own beds. When they were out, I'd stay up (or at least dozing out on the couch) until they got home. Then I could rest at ease.
But when they step out into their own adult lives, we don't have that mother hen satisfaction of having everyone safely home under our roof.
It's a big adjustment.
But it's also a good reminder. Our care, though heartfelt and intense, is limited. God's care is not.
I don't delve much into poetry, but these thoughts inspired a poem a few years ago. It's not perfect, but I offer it to you in hopes it might be a comfort.
A Mother's Nightly Ritual
Before a mother goes to bed
She checks each little downy head,
Places a hand on back or chest
Of each sleeping child at rest,
Making sure that all is well
Before succumbing to sleep's spell.
As children grow and youth abounds,
Yet Mother still must make her rounds.
She can not rest at ease until
Her little ones are calm and still,
Safely tucked into their beds,
Then softly to her own she treads.
From childhood into youth they grow,
And she waits up until she knows
They're settled safe and sound at home
Til the next day when they roam.
Though now they stay up long past her,
She can't rest til they're home, secure.
Her birds fly later from her sight.
Their beds are empty now at night.
She cannot check the rise and fall
Of sleeping breaths within her walls.
Yet she trusts they're safely kept
By Him who never once has slept.
Though now they sleep beyond her care,
They never move beyond her prayer.
Her nightly vigil now is to
Trust them to the same One Who
Watched o'er Jacob while he roamed,
And kept him safe though far from home.
Barbara Harper
Copyright 2010
(I often link up with some of these bloggers.)
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