I feel the battle is on. A spiritual warfare that a mother will fight for her son (children), in my case a grown son, at that. My gut instinct for weeks proved right when an unexpected visit from me after much avoidance. My determination was to knock and stay at his door until he came home, opened the door or possibly call the police if need be. Fear overwhelmed me for days, not knowing if I would find my son alive or dead, especially that night. Not what a mother needs to consider but was a possibility.
To finally have the door open after hesitation on his part, I was lost in emotion as I hugged him. A mothers heart will do that, fall apart from happiness and even anger. As I sat next to him, saying what I felt, he promised to stay in touch but day after day, his word failed yet again. As I sat next to him, he did not hesitate to lay his head on my shoulder. He needed his mom just as much. As we sat there talking, he shared just enough with me of what was he was dealing with due to pride and independence.
I just have to pray as tears flow still, fight the worry and thoughts that pop in my mind, as I try to trust the Lord fully. But, Lord, PLEASE!
As a mother, we have to cut the apron stings, which is normal and with mileage in between our homes, that was necessary. He is grown but he is still my boy. It is probably a good thing with the distance but it feels as though he is a million miles away. We each have our own life of work, commitments, etc., to tend to so I cannot helicopter parent him. Of course, that is not normal. I have to keep my faith in God. So hard to do at times.
Being a parent is such a blessing, all ages, but so hard at times. God wants each of us to look to Him. Perhaps that is where we are in this matter, my son has to make a choice.
Of what I know with what is before him, he has to work through this. I cannot do it for him. We had a rough patch a few years back and he did get through it and learned a valuable lesson in the process. That’s life and how it should be, and I was so proud of him. I’m always proud but the anguish is overriding. We are at the crossroads again, I feel.
Faith ▪️ Hope ▪️ Love
A few weeks ago, while staying in a rented condo on vacation, it takes me a bit to get acclimated to the surroundings and sounds. While it was great to meet up with a friend so we could shop for several days, the night comes. I’m in the back bedroom and she is in the front bedroom near the outside door. I knew she went to bed and as I am lying
there in mine, I hear a screeching of a door. I look through the crack of my door to see if it was the front, outside door, while a panic within me freezes not knowing the what if. What if it is the door opening and somebody will enter. Fear.
As I look and try to talk through this situation, I look at the bedroom door and am reminded that there is a cross on the door. Trust Me. Once I realized we were in no danger, the deadbolt was on anyway, I remembered yet again how many times since a child that I have looked at the doors in our home and the Cross. Peace.
fear as it has done all of my life. I love that the six-paneled doors, I see a Cross. I was telling my friend of the screeching sound and my panic mode. She had never noticed the Cross before. Bet she does now. You, too. (Cross and Bible)
Just Pondering... 