Train Up a Child

     So yesterday I was cleaning my yellow garage.  It was a mess.  Christmas decorations were all over the place.  Empty boxes.  Leaves.  Stuff for an upcoming garage sale.  Pine cones.  You get the picture.  Well, part of it anyway.  I was still in my pajamas.  There.  That about covers it.
     Anyway, as I was putting some stuff in the garbage can just outside the garage door, I noticed the dried grass was tangled next to the garage, just behind the gutter downspout.  Using the broom handle as a makeshift hoe, I dug at the brown grass.  Boy was I surprised when a Hot Wheels truck popped out!
     I picked up that little truck and inspected it.  Mattel.  1960 Chevy.  Yellow.  No wheels.  It had obviously been there for quite some time.  And it made me smile.
     Raising 4 boys, this house has seen more than a fair share of Hot Wheels.  There was actually a time I used those little cars as bribes.  Back in the day, I would have 2 kids in the church nursery and 3 with me in the church service.  Wanting them to behave, and also hoping they would learn something, I would promise those boys a Hot Wheels car of their choice if they would sit nicely and take notes during church.
     These boys were little!  I am still amazed at how well they listened and took notes.  There were times they got more out of the message than I did.  (And all my kids are much better spellers than me---they even were back then!)  I loved reading their notes and seeing how well they understood the Word. And they loved getting a new car each week.
     Lest it seem like we went on a Hot Wheels shopping spree each Sunday afternoon,  let me just add at this point that we had purchased Hot Wheels cars in bulk from a local TV auction show.  So I had a good selection already available when we got home each Sunday.  It wasn't long before the boys had a duffel bag full of them.  Pretty sure that bag is around here somewhere still.
     Back to that little yellow truck I found.  It got me to thinking.  It's been a rough couple of weeks.  I've listened to one of my sons tell of the most traumatic experience he has ever been through.  Something no one should ever have to go through.  Yet, I know God had him in the place where he was, is.  As a mom, I want to scoop him up.  Hold him.  Take away his pain.  But I have to let him stand and be a man.  I have to trust that I trained him up in the way he should go.  And just be there for him if he decides he needs me.
     This last two weeks I've seen my other kids rally around their brother.  We've been a family.  Love.  Patience.  Compassion.  It has all been real.  I can't help but know it's a glimpse of good things yet to come.  The 'and when he is old he will not depart from it' part.  It's comforting.  And sad too, because of the circumstances that brought us here.  Yet I trust Him.
     When our kids are little, we tend to love them more with rules.  We place guidelines.  We try to 'train them up in the way they should go'.  Once they are grown, it's time to love them with grace.  We may not agree with what they do.  The decisions they make or the directions they go sometimes break our hearts.  But it's time to step back.  It's no longer our jobs to set rules for them.  It's time to love them with grace.  Allow them to find their own way.  And know we've done our job.
     Train up a child.  That little yellow truck with no wheels.  Now they are all grown up.  Getting glimpses of God working in their lives is absolutely amazing.  Overwhelming at times.  And I'm so very thankful to be their momma.

You Take the Good, You Take the Bad, You Take Them Both and There You Have......

     You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have.....2018.  You thought I was going to say 'the facts of life' didn't you?  Well that works, too.  But this theme song has popped in my head every time I've thought about this last year.  So here we go.
     I know that some people say it's all in the perspective.  And I can agree with that about some things.  But I also know that there is good.  And there is bad.  What matters is what we do with both.
     Recently, I filled out a quiz.  It asked me what I wanted more than anything.  A couple of years ago, my answer would have been completely different.  I was living in horrible anguish back then.  I was lonely and confused when I shouldn't have been.  But you know that if you've read my other blogs.  And my answer to the question on that quiz?  It was that my kids would all have healthy spiritual lives.
     I used to pray specifically for what I wanted God to do in their lives.  And for them to have no suffering or pain.  Boy, was I selfish.  A mom, yes.  But that's not how it works.  And I should have known that.
    We can't 'fix' things for our kids.  Well, maybe sometimes when they were little but certainly not when they are grown. Mine are all adults and are busily teaching me new things all the time.  I can truly say I have grown tremendously this last year and I owe so much of it to my  amazing kids.
     Not all of what I've learned from my kids has been because of something good, though.  As much as I would like to make their paths easy.  As much as I would like to have had all my prayers answered just as I prayed when they were little---basically for perfect lives---that's just not reasonable.  And that's not God.
     The lessons I've learned this past year have been hard ones.  I've cried out to God in gut wrenching anguish so many times.  Taking the dogs out at night and  looking up at the moon, well some how that triggered crying out to Him with a deeply broken heart.  Then something happened.  Like in the Old Testament when a mourner takes off the sack cloth and rises out of the ashes, I'm experiencing something new.
      Peace.  Real peace like I've never experienced in my life.  Sometimes rising from the roses and hibiscuses.  Sometimes rising from the ashes.  But always rising.  I know it's God. I've tested it.  And it's real.
     I haven’t been a perfect mom. But I have to trust that I’ve done my best in teaching my kids Who their help comes from. Who their Savior is. And that He never leaves them.
     All this?  It's causing me to become the me I thought I was.  To know that we can't make life choices for others.  But we can show them love.  And when we show them love, just maybe they will see Jesus in us.  And make the right choices for themselves. Isn't that what it's truly all about?