My heart is not right when one of my kids isn’t home. The house feels empty somehow. Even with other people home and doing their “thing” – my house knows that one of us is not there. It’s as if it can feel it, as well as me.
I hate looking out at the night sky through my window and wondering what my child is doing; feeling. Who is looking at her – talking about her? Do they mean her harm or good?
The clock ticks. I know when she is due to come home and my arms and my heart won’t rest until she is there.
I text her – just to check in. Sometimes I use an excuse, other times I just blatantly ask, “How’s it going? Are you having fun?” My eyes glance at the phone until a text comes back through showing me that she is still safe. She is well.
How do you go to sleep when you know one of your own is out “there?” How can you rest? There have been so many nights where my eyes have grown so heavy – wanting to shut. And I’ve been so thankful when my husband looks at me and tells me that he will wait up until our little sheep is safely home in our flock again. I can then sleep – knowing that someone is on watch…on duty.
I don’t like it when my kids are out. They may be having a great time with great people. I may get time for an actual date with my spouse. But I don’t like it when my kids are out.
They belong with me. Where I know what is influencing them and who. They belong with me – the one who gave them life.
(Oh yah – GOD gave them life. Not me. I was just a vessel.)
And He has them in His hands everywhere they go even though I’d like my hands to be the ones that pull the strings.
God loves them – even more than I do. Hard to fathom. To grasp. Yet He does.
And I know that as much as I don’t feel at rest knowing they are out “there” – He never rests. He is always watching.
And that knowledge reassures me. Reminds me that they are in the best possible hands.
Still….I like it better when they are at home. With me.
For they are part of me.