The pages of my life are turning ever so quickly, and the next chapter is approaching with hasty anticipation. My thoughts are racing but getting me nowhere in this unchartered territory where paths intersect, and decisions impatiently beckon.
Yet I resist, wanting desperately to cling to this season like a lifeline knowing that, too soon, it will only be a memory. Too soon, he will fly away to meet his bright future while I cheer fanatically from the sidelines.
Watching him grow from a difficult child into a gracious young adult has been one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life. But as his time at home draws to a close, daunting questions pepper my thoughts.
What if I haven’t prepared him well enough? What if he gets to college or leaves on a church mission and finds himself lacking in skills that I should have taught him? What if he makes poor choices after he leaves the safety of home because I didn’t arm him with the right tools? What if I didn’t use my time with him wisely?
I have recently realized that these questions and others like them boil down to one monstrous fear that is deeply rooted within my soul:
I feel like I am preparing for the final exam of an 18-year course. In my mind, whether or not I pass will be determined by what my kids decide to do with their lives after they leave home. If they make poor choices, I will fail. Their decisions are and will continue to be a reflection of their upbringing. If they don’t choose well, it might be my fault.
And if I fail at the one thing that I have devoted my life to for the past 18 years, where will that leave me?
Thoughts such as these have a nasty way of clouding my judgment, even though I know that dwelling on them will not erase my past mistakes, which are too numerous to count. When I step back and take an objective look at the situation, which is more difficult than it sounds, it is clear that my kids’ choices do not amount to failure on my part, now or at any point in the future. …