Oh Boy

Being a mother is the hardest thing i have ever done. It has left me feeling crazy euphoric and woefully inadequate. It's a roller coaster of the most extreme, between the pride and the horror. And how is it there isn't a test first to make sure anyone should even be a parent? It must be because no one would pass. We pass later. Like, after they move out. I'm not sure if it even matters what they do in life, we just all made it to the move out stage in one piece. No permanent damage. hallelujah.

It's not an easy road though, is it? Oh sure, when they are small and everything is so cute and funny and post-worthy. Have you ever noticed how often parents (ok, mothers - let's just get it out there) share pictures and stories of their kids, sometimes multiple times a day, but if you look closely, you notice this all stops at about, well, 8th grade. There is a shift, it is small at first but as it widens, you can almost feel yourself being pulled out into isolation. This is especially true if you have teenagers and all your friends have kids in the adorable stage. Not that teenagers can't be adorable.... well,ok. They can't. Adorable is not the word for a teenager. EVER.
But the island of Isolation can quickly show you the neighboring island of Fear and then look, there is also Doubt, and then a small boat ride away is Worry. Every now and then you think you can spot the island of Peace but it quickly gets blown up by a volcano and well, you know how long those take to build back up again. So there you are, amidst your islands, paddling hard to stay away from the one called Crazy.

I love my boy. Who looks like a man. Just thinking about him, i can literally feel my heart swell inside of me. It is all of those islands, thumping together inside an ocean of Love. It has been a rough two years. And by rough i mean crying outside in the dark with a cigarette clutched in my frozen fingers in the corner of the yard so no one can see me. I mean conversations with his dad that lasted longer than the movie Titanic with the repeated question, "what are we going to do?" with the same nerve stretching answer, "i don't know." I mean going into his room at night while he sleeps and standing over his bed, with tears sliding down in silence while i pray, begging God to help the both of us. I cry now just typing this because the islands are still here and my heart is raw.

It does not matter what the struggles have been. Our struggles, your struggles - we may be on different cruise ships but it's the same ocean. Sometimes calm with the sun glittering off the surface and sometimes - not.
Hurricane weather.
I cannot list them - that's another thing about having teenagers, you respect their feelings, realizing what you write about them could hurt them. But if i must be completely honest, if i must peek under the band-aid, there is also the fear someone is going to judge my kid, hold his dumb, and sometimes mortifying, decisions against him, think badly of him, whisper to their spouse at night, "i'm so glad our sweet little johnny isn't like so and so." Because hey, even though i know my kid has made some mistakes, that kind of whispering still makes me want to punch you in the throat. You just wait. Those years are coming for ya.

The other Truth though is this - we always wonder, maybe fathers do too but mothers, oh yes, we take the whole world into our heart on this one - what did i do? Or even better, what did i not do right?
Feel me?

I have to pause as i write that because it echoes inside ... wanting an answer. What did i not do right?

I have asked God that so many times. I have cried it, whispered it, yelled it to my lawn. It has pounded itself into my skull and the Enemy of course, taunts me with it. It must be my fault. I am the worst mom. Stupid.
It's because you got divorced. It's because you lost them. It's because you didn't spend enough time. It's because you didn't give enough space.
endless endless condemnation. The island Crazy is getting closer. I can see the dock.

But one night.. one night while i sat in the dark, exhausted in my Worry, numb with it all, i heard God. It sounded like me - in monotone - but it wasn't. It was much to hopeful for that.
"I love him too." Quiet. A still, small voice.
I blinked.
"I love him, just like I love you. You can give him to Me. You can trust Me. Lay him at My feet."
My eyes blurred in the fresh tears.
"I have a plan for him too. A path he must walk. He has to learn to trust me ... just like you did."

and then i sobbed. loud. with snot and weird faces. God saw me. I was Hagar. He saw my heart and how it was twisted all inside out and knotted. He saw my torment and my pain. He saw how much i love my son. He saw me. He heard me. And He met me.
And i got it.
I know the road traveled to know God and then to believe God can be SO HARD.
The Enemy does not want us on this road and so he will throw huge rocks at us to make us fall. I saw the rocks, the boulders, he throws at my son.
Insecurity. Bullying. Indifference. Acne. Self-Esteem. Girls. Peer pressure. Expectations.

But i also see my Jesus. And he is bigger than these rocks. bigger than the Enemy. And so i am choosing today, to believe Him. I am choosing today to rest on His island of Peace and i will not fear the volcanoes nor the hurricanes. I am choosing today God knew what He was doing when he gave me the privilege of being my kid's mom.
God doesn't make mistakes.