How To Let Your Kids Go……

The waves of redemption from his nine months gone…hadn’t even hit me yet.

The shock.  That his face. Was in more than my thoughts. But a bed.  Tucked tight with the retribution.  That I am whole again.

Son.  Finally home.

Serving. Philippines. And helping.  Earthquake.  Landslides.  Victims. People flooded with a desperate pleading…

Son answering.  The call.  Gone.

Nearly a year.  Cut cord.  This mom.  Desperately clinging…to her eldest.  Hope.  Prayers.  Believing….

I would touch his face again.

And here he is.

Home.

Yet, as he lay in his return.  Discontent with being home.  I wrestle to find breathe of peace.  The kind a mother gets when….

All your kids are in the same place.

Pillow pricking.  Stirring.  Full house.  Singing. No lullaby.

This moment.  Mother’s sigh. Leaving.  
And already.  I hear it.  A calling. A whisper that I try to deny….Sweeping across my spirit…..

“He is going to leave again soon.  I want to use him.”

And the tears of a year.  Like a flood gate from a clogged up river.  Comes streaming out.  There in my pillow.  Where no one hears. This first night of my sons coming back.

When all should have been well.

Days pass.  Moments come….

I say nothing.

Then. Son calmly walks towards.  This mom.  Who rocked him close when he had colic.  And I hear.  What God had already prepared me for….

“Mom, would you be disappointed if I left again soon?”

“Why”, I ask.  Acting ambivalent.

Trying to disguise the fact.  The God of the Universe whispered in my ear.  Sharing secrets.  Whispers. The kind that make pillows wet.  Hearts question…..The meaning of it all. 

“Well.”  He continues.  “Because I feel like I am supposed to go again soon.  Build houses for the poor in Panama with a friend.”

And as we talk, he shares.  When.  Where.  How long.  Details secondary to the fact that.  My son.  Heard the call.  Of God.

And how do you let your child go.  Again.  Far away.  To a third world country.  When he has only been home for four months?

And I hear the Father speak. Of His son…..  “No greater love is this, He who is willing to lay down His life for a friend.”

And although it’s as if….all my dreams of son’s return, finally came true….

Having a son that loves His friend, Jesus. And is willing to do anything for Him, requires one to:

• Pick up faith just when you think it’s been used up and put down.  
• Ride on the winds that take you by surprise.  Instead of building a fort that stops, shrinks back, or denies….those God cries.   Rising from the deep.

And I…..have learned.  Selfishness…..never heals.  Backwards thinking.  Resisting.  Time turning….never helps anybody.

And sometimes…

• Whispers leave imprints.  
• Time has no “freeze” button.  
• Children keep changing.  
• And digging in one’s heals……has a way of only keeping….back God’s purposes.

So, I tell my son.  With as much confidence I can muster…..No matter where God calls.  No matter what the world around you wants….You must do God’s will.

And when you live your life to only raise:

• Free spirits. 
• Dreamers.  
• Visionaries with no harness keeping them from believing….God can do anything.

What exactly can one expect?

So, I walk him to the airport.  Bags packed.  Ready to be exported.  Once again.

I say goodbye.

Because if God has calls them.  Who am I?  Who are we?  Mere men, feeble flesh and blood…..to try and stop them?

And with faith.  And prayers.  And a clinging to The One who whispered in my ear….the night he came home.  I hold to truth like an anchor in a sea of my own emotions:   

I know this is God’s will.

                                                                    So, I let him go.
                                                                                             
Sending him to the wide open.  Where life has no ceiling.

And I return to the prayer stance.  Faith response.  Trusting God…..more than the abundance of things I don’t know, yet.

And watch.  As he leaves.

Returning to the side of his bed.

Now.  Empty.

Made perfect.  Where he used to lay.  This temporary place he resides.  A place where his soul refuses to be chained.

And as I lay my empty head back down.  On dry pillow.

……This time.  No son around.

His whisper returns to comfort.

“Be still, oh my child.  Rest your soul.  I am by your side. I am here.  I am enough.”

And I realize……I am the wandering one.

The child who struggles to stay home.  The busy one…trying to please Jesus.

And so…..I let him go.

The parenting.  Heart strings.  Concern.  All my worries….

And count it all loss….

Once again….

As I give my son wings….

And he flies…..Free.  Where he belongs…..

Into the open arms…..

Of Jesus.