My dear boys,
I read this book to you last night. You were very nice and soft to cuddle. When I read it as a little girl, I thought the mommy the in the story was a bit weird, her love was a bit crazy. Just like you, I thought she was a bit silly, rocking her adult son like that. But now that I am a mommy, I understand why she would do that. I would be missing you too when you are no longer by my side.
I may not climb into your bedroom window using a ladder (I'm sure you'd oblige giving me a set of your keys), but remember, I will be praying for you.
Your grandmother, my mother, used to tell me that she prayed for me when she couldn't sleep at night. I thought I understood what she was saying, but I didn't.
When mommy tells you that I am praying for you, I am really telling you that I love you. I love you when I see you in the morning and when I sing to you at night and all the hours in between. I am so happy to know you, so proud to be your mommy. I loved you when I first laid eyes on you, I loved you today when you fit so perfectly on my lap, and I will love you always and always.
When mommy tells you that I am praying for you, I am really telling you that even though I want to be with you wherever you go, I cannot.
For a short while, our world is mostly you and me. You are what I hear, smell, see. I am yours and you are mine. This is a very special time. We get to celebrate every small success together. I get to wrap your fingers with band aids, and kiss every hurt away. Daddy gets to hold you when you get your shots, even when you were kicking and screaming at him. We get to remind you to turn, and come back to the way of grace.
There will come a day when we will not be there to hold you. Pain will come. You will feel loneliness, rejection, betrayal. You will lose your way. You will find yourselves tossed in storms too great. Your boat will seem very small, and the waves will be very tall. You will be scared and will want to give up. You will know that you are not enough.
Remember, mommy is praying for you.
I am praying because I know God is with you. He will go with you to places where I cannot. His eyes will watch over you. His arms will fight for you. His hands will uphold you. His love will cover you. He loves you more, much more than I ever could. His love is crazier than climbing up a ladder into your room. He came down to live with us, to be us, to die for us.
You must remember to call upon him. Turn to him when you get lost. Fix your eyes on the cross. He is your sword, your shield. He is your light when the days are dark. He is your shepherd, you will not want anything else. He will bring you home.
1 comment:
I've really enjoyed the last few posts, Irene. On this post: I think it takes a certain kind of courage to share the idea of suffering with children, so, bravo to you! It saddens me, how so many parents nowadays indulge their children with "pleasures" only and avoid the topic of hardship. Maybe it would be wiser to follow the footsteps of someone like, say, Jonathan Edwards:
"When Jonathan wrote to his children, he often reminded them - not morbidly, but almost as a matter of fact - how close death might be. For Jonathan, the reality of death led automatically to the need for eternal life. He wrote to their ten-year-old Jonathan Jr. about the death of a playmate. 'This is a loud call of God to you to prepare for death....never give yourself any rest unless you have good evidence that you are converted and become a new creature.'"
(Source: _Faithful Women & Their Extraordinary God_ by Noel Piper)
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