The youngest got his license today. You would think after having gone through it twice before, experience would allow me to handle it a little better. But, no. It does not.
As I type, he is out on his first ever, all alone, drive.
Hate. It.
I loved having young ones - babies, toddlers. I like to pretend that's it is because I was such an amazing, fun, love-the-babies mom. I don't think that's it though. I think it's because I could control them - their environments - what they ate- when they slept - their friends - where they went - who they were with. In theory, I can save them from pain, suffering, (whatever I don't like, really.) It let me live in the illusion that I was in control.
I liked it there.
But then they grow into teenagers and young adults and any illusion of control is thrown quickly and unceremoniously out the window. No mercy, no period of adjustment - just gone.
They get in a car and careen down the road at 30, 40, 60 miles per hour, without you there... they move to college and don't call you every time they need to make a decision... they get married, blah, blah, blah.
I'm so bad at this. This blog post is in lieu of a panic attack, actually. I probably won't stop writing until he calls and lets me know he arrived safely at his destination.
The truth is - we are never in control. Everything can change within the blink of an eye. That would be a crippling thought to me without Jesus. I'm so glad it rests securely in His able hands... even my near panic attack is resting securely in His able hands.
He is with my grown children as they live their lives in other cities, with friends I do not know, eating what they want, when they want, going to bed when they want. He is with my youngest as he careens down the highway even as this is being written. He is with them when the inevitable pain and suffering come their way. I love that. I cling to that.
Thank you, Jesus, for Your strong, capable hands.
Got the call. He made it. Thank you, Jesus. Good bye.
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