On Being a Parent

Sometimes being a mom is so incredibly difficult.

Sometimes I long for those preschool days when I was the only person in my kid's little lives to make them miserable (and you know sometimes that's true); when I had control of almost every part of their day.

For over a week now I have lost sleep, my appetite, and my ability to think straight because of worry over my oldest child.

I am not boasting when I tell you that he is the sweetest child I have ever known. He is kind and compassionate. He desires to please. He is respectful. He is helpful to others, and he is very sensitive.

He's just a good kid. 

I would love to take all the credit for who he is, and write about how my Great Parenting Skills and Perfect Mothering have made him who he has become, but the truth is that I was given not one, but two, amazing children. I was given these amazing kiddos, and in spite of my failings and flaws as a parent they are (so far) a joy to us, and to others.

However, have you ever noticed that often times our greatest strength can also be our greatest weakness?

This is true for my kids as well. We have experienced it this week in epidemic proportions as my son deals with a new teacher who is laying a heavy hand with her fifth grade class. 

The Boy is so fearful of getting into trouble (although in six years of schooling this has NEVER happened) that he has an amazing amount of anxiety. He's afraid of his teacher.

I won't take the time, nor the energy, to go into the details but after 8 days of fear and endless pep talks I decided to take action. My hope was to get him moved into a class where he feels less threatened (and I did this with no small amount of thought, prayer and council). 

We were denied.

So this morning I took my trembling son to the classroom with a promise that I would return to volunteer at 9:30a, for an hour. 

I am now back from volunteering, but I still feel unsettled as he has three and a half hours to complete before he can come home to his soft place to land.

Several years ago when The Boy started kindergarten I had to memorize this scripture to get over the anxiety of sending him off to "strangers" for six hours a day:

2 Timothy 1:12

...I know whom I have believed and am convinced

 that He is able to guard

 what I have entrusted to him for that day.

I find myself having to remind myself over, and over, again that no one could love my child more than God. No one could be in safer hands than the one who is in His hands. The Boy is my child, but there is no greater guard than the God who made him who he is...

I know that the decision we have made to make The Boy face his fears is one that is right. One that has definite boundaries (I have spoken with the principle and the teacher to clearly define what my expectations are.) I know that this time in his life will make him stronger, make him into a great man of strength and integrity. I am praying that it will be in times like this, when I cannot be there to comfort and assure him, that he will remember that God is always with him. 

I pray that he will learn that he can depend on the Lord; with or without me there to encourage him.

And yet....my mothers heart aches for him; it doesn't want him to experience pain.

In yesterday's post I spoke about something that was troubling my heart. This is the gist: its hard to let go when it feels so rotten. 

It's hard to watch him learn that sometimes life isn't fair. 

It's hard to watch your child suffer, and remember that joy can only be celebrated when we understand the pain of suffering. 

It's hard...

...it's hard, and I am awesomely aware that it's necessary.  

A very tired, 

La Vida Dulce