Mostly though, I am profoundly thankful for the last four weeks. We have laughed and cried and talked late at night. I have taken him to the oral surgeon to have his wisdom teeth extracted, the dermatologist to have a cyst removed from his forehead, and today to the eye doctor to see if he needs glasses. (He goes off our insurance in May so this has been the break to take care of medical issues!) He has enjoyed our family friends and they have gotten to know him better. He has played ping-pong with his brothers and put his music on my computer. I am honored when he says, "Oh, Mommy, you'll like this one." He's had his turn on the dish-washing rotation and taken out the trash. He's been a son and brother at home. We have loved it.
He, of course, continues to be a son and brother at school...but it's different. We don't get to hear his quick witted comments or insightful observations during our morning reading. Joel won't get tackled, tickled, or wrestled to the floor. Matthew will not have anyone to play guitar with. Andrew will not hear the constant song of "come to Gordon, come to Gordon," when he thinks about his college decision. Coty will miss conversations about politics and international affairs. I will miss terribly the frequent hugs. We will all miss the good natured teasing to which we are subjected when J is home.
Jonathan and I talked the other day about why I scold and fuss, why I am critical at times and why I worry. (Not that those are good things, mind you. They are just what I sometimes do) As a mother, I want the very, very best for my children. First I want them to love and follow God. Then I want their lives to be purposeful, meaningful, happy, and as pain-free as possible. I want them to do well and to avoid the pitfalls I fell into. I want them to be wise and discerning; to live happily ever after. When I'm not thinking very clearly, I act as though my scolding, criticism, and worry will accomplish those goals. I forget, in my protective mother-love, that it doesn't really work that way.
I forget that it is by falling in and climbing out of pitfalls that we learn to walk in a more discerning way. It is by enduring trials that we learn perseverance. It is pain that presses us into God and makes us wiser. Hard things are necessary for growth and strength. And no fussing or worrying on my part will change that. When I am thinking clearly, I know that my children will go through plenty of their own struggles, their share of pain, and their own hard trials. I can advise and counsel, encourage and listen. But more important than anything else, I can pray. And I can love and keep a home for my children always to come back to - for a few days or longer.
1 comment:
Beth,
I want to print out that part about the scolding and fussing. You are so right about the reason for it, but that's not really the outward form that that love and energy should be expressed in! A very good perspective that I hadn't thought about before, and a stone for me to carry around and think about and be reminded of!
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