When life was simple I held you in my arms and the greatest mystery was the beauty of your fingers and toes and how quickly you seemed to change day to day. Now at times so much of you is a mystery and when called upon, I struggle to explain you to Other Adults,to Concerned Adults, who are just wanting to know why you said or did what you did. I should know. I should, I’m The Mom. But I don’t always know the whys and wherefores. I don’t know your mind, though I try.
When life was simple my biggest, most important job was to fill your most basic of needs, to feed, clothe, and nurture you. Now I admit to feeling conflicted about what my job entails. To protect you? To equip? To shadow you? To let you go? I have tried, though failed in many small ways, I know, to guide and challenge you, and to love you through each difficulty. And I have let you out into the world where there are so many opportunities, but also so many places to stumble.
When life was simple everyone oohed and aahed and cooed and cuddled, tickling your toes and inhaling the freshness of your new life. Now mingled with kind and encouraging words and praise of who you are becoming are calls and emails with concerns and questions I want to be able to answer.
When life was simple I knew every inch of you as if you were still a part of me. I sensed quickly your patterns and understood your needs. Now so much is a question mark and even as The Mom I furrow my brow in puzzlement because sometimes I just. Don’t. Know. But if I don’t, who will? And if something inside of you is broken, then as The Mom, am I responsible for the breaking? What do you need from me? What can I do? What should I do?
When life is simple, I want to recognize it. I don’t want to miss the sweetness of small moments as I get lost in the complications that surface with each year of life. I want you to be who you are and to grow into who you will be. But in those moments when I am feeling ill equipped and scared, I long for the quiet moments of innocent childhood that continue to slip so quickly through my fingers as I try to hold on.
Thank God it is not up to me, even when it feels like it is. I thank God that He is there to fill in the gaps I so clumsily miss and that His love covers not just my child in its strength and purity, but it covers me as well. I don’t always understand it, and I don’t have to. I can just rest in the beauty of it. It’s that simple.