“The Lord is my light & my salvation – whom shall I fear? The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble?” Psalm 27:1 #amimessingupmykids
Oh, motherhood…I heard my husband’s sweet, sweet granny say one time ‘from the womb to the tomb’. She was talking about a mother’s worry. I wasn’t a mother at the time so I understood what she was saying, I didn’t understand the full meaning. Boy, do I get it now.
My worry seems to center around one little person who I have found myself responsible for shaping. That’s terrifying. And he’s only 4 (Lord, help me)! I definitely worry am I ‘doing it right’? If I sit down and think about it, it gets overwhelming quickly. I just want him healthy & happy. I want to make sure I’m shaping him to be the person God intends for him to be, and I’m so afraid I’ll fall short.
Life seems to take on a whole new meaning when children enter the picture. As I’ve made some life adjustments over the past couple of years, I don’t know that I necessarily ‘worry’ quite like I used to. Which is strange because in some areas I really should probably worry more. I don’t though and most of the time things seem to work out in their own way.
It’s amazing how life moves forward no matter what the circumstance. If you’re not careful, you’ll miss it. I honestly believe the best present we can give our children is being present. It’s so easy to get sucked into the busy-ness of life and the worries that easily accompany it. It’s natural to worry and I think worrying (in a healthy way) keeps us alert to life and things we may need to think about carefully or be aware of. Where I think worrying goes wrong is when we dwell. Dwelling on something makes it consuming. Consuming means it’s taking up time in our lives. And something taking up time in our lives means we’re missing out on other things.
Four years ago, I was headed for a worried life of missing out. I am my father’s daughter, through & through. I was a workaholic in the making. Sacrificing family needs for work needs. I worried about all the wrong things. I thought success meant working hard and being overly dedicated to work. I dwelled on most things work related. When my dad passed suddenly in 2010 a piece of me died with him. At first, I thought it was the good part of me that died. Being a daddy’s girl, I was devastated.
I found myself doing some serious thinking over the next two years. Where there is a lot more that goes into the story of leaving my job, the point is that I did. I love being my own boss having flexibility to spend time with my son. We go on adventures and meet with friends and experience things learning about life together. We have found what really works for me and my family.
When I look back now I realize a piece of me did die with my dad, but now I believe it’s a piece he wanted to take with him, a piece he wanted me to give to God- the worried workaholic. I’m still my father’s daughter, just minus that part. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of motherhood worries and I’ll try not to dwell (and I get it- that’s easier said than done- he is only 4!). But for now, I’m going to enjoy this shoeless Tuesday picnic at the park on an unusually cool July summer day with the most amazing little 4 year old I know.