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.