Independence

What a funny thing. And why is it so consuming to us sometimes?

Lately my C has been pushing his boundaries. For the past 3 years he's been pretty dependent and accepting of me. He let me do things for him, clean him, feed him, take care of him. Don't get me wrong, he has started taking on these tasks as he is physically able- but for the most part he trusts me to take care of him. He knows I will be there when he wakes up in the morning, that there will be clothes for him to wear that fit him well and keep him warm. He knows I will fix something for him to eat for breakfast, that I will clean up the dishes, do his laundry, drive him places, keep him safe... you know, the basic neccesities of life will be handled responsibly. And yet he has reached that age where he wants more control over his moments. He is resisting some of the boundaries, pushing the limits, trying to wrestle control and authority away- one decision at a time. Suddenly the oatmeal that he would have eaten happily without question a week ago is detestable to him and he demands Cheerios today instead. Out of the blue he wants to put his own shoes on, and furthermore he wants to wear the most ridiculous, too small, non-matching pair he can find- mainly because it is not the pair I had set out for him. He doesn't want to put his toys away when I say it is time to clean up, and he doesn't care that I think it is bath time because HIS schedule doesn't allow for bath at that particular moment.

It has been a bit frustrating to say the least- in case you couldn't tell. I know it is a normal part of life, a part of growing up, stretching his wings, and turning into a little guy who will (hopefully) eventually turn into an amazing man. So I try to take a deep breath, extend grace and mercy while still instilling discipline, and help guide and direct him. My heart's truest hope is that I can help him fill his heart with a desire to be Christ-like, and to properly direct this independent energy towards a life of love and service for God. That I can every so gently and (VERY) gradually start to let him lean less on me, and learn to turn to his heavenly Father for the details.

And then it hit me. Like a ton of bricks. God must feel like this every day He looks at me. Like I'm feeling now. I am C's Mom, I know what is best and I want everything life offers to be available to him. I want him to be the best he can be, to do all he can do, and to love his life every step of the way. I want him to trust me, to continue to rely on me, to let me help him and love him and keep him safe. I know that I will start letting go a little at a time, and I know even more poignantly that I can only hold on so tight. But I want his little eyes to keep turning to me, his little heart to keep reaching for me, and his little hands to keep holding onto me. And how much more does God want that for my life. He takes care of even the sparrow, so I know He will do so much more for me, if only I let Him. If only I trust Him, rely on Him, live for Him, how much more will he bless me, care for me, and truly enrich my life beyond any earthly measure. He will not force me into anything I won't choose for myself. But He is longing for me to keep turning my eyes to Him, resting in Him when I am weary, and running to Him when my forays into independence leave me flat on my back.

So why is it so hard for me to learn this lesson and make it stick. Why do I keep trying to wrestle back control of my own world? Why do I continually stomp my feet, let out a whine, and assert my own stubborn independence? Maybe that is my area of weakness, or my greatest struggle, or my cross to bear. However you want to see it, I realize now that I need to be alert to my own independence. I know that I need to constanly remember to submit to His will, to seek His comfort, and to trust in His provision. For when I am contently resting in Him, snuggled deep into His arms with my face buried in His chest... that is when I am truly at peace. Like a babe in his mother's arms, that is when my soul truly finds rest.