Sage is ten and has already claimed the title jack-of-all-trades . She likes volleyball , basketball , swimming , piano , art , theater , school , Bible study , and about a dozen other activities that all practice on Monday . She is always smiling and joyful . I ’ m a bit biased , but I think she attacks life like Tarzan and is as beautiful as Jane .
And then there is Rogue . He is eight and lives up to his name . He is the youngest , and he is incredibly smart and fun . Everyone at school , regardless of their grade , knows Rogue . To him , no one is a stranger and everyone is a target , either for a high five or a forearm shiver . He ’ s got the Brad Pitt charm going on , but I don ’ t fall for it . Too often , at least . When he asked to be baptized last summer at Pine Cove Christian camp and then clearly articulated his need for grace , I melted . He does that to me .
As I was watching the three of them play a game the other day that would most likely end up in an ER visit , God granted me one of those rare moments of clarity . I realized I only have a dozen more summers until all three of them leave the house . After that , there will be no more ice cream truck stops , pool floaties to blow up , or neighborhood Nerf gun wars to monitor .
I only have about 20 family trips left . We always make such great memories snow skiing , ziplining , and swimming , but we rarely get to take more than a couple excursions a year . I ’ ve always thought we ’ d have an endless number of SUV road trips , but I can now count them on my hands and feet .
When my kids were little , they always shouted ,
“ Love you to heaven and back !” and “ Love you more than you love me !” when they went to bed . But they aren ’ t little anymore . I can ’ t count how many times I ’ ll hear these good-night phrases in years anymore ; it may just be months .
If we pray with them every day , we only have 4,380 more prayers left . Granted , our spiritual modeling and encouragement will continue into their adulthood , but not in the same way . We will continue to pray for our children , but not likely sitting bedside as we tenderly tuck them in snug as a bug in a rug . We constantly preach that relying on God is the most important thing , but the number of times we can exemplify this while they are under our roof is limited .
The rocks are slipping away fast . Sure , I will still be their mom , and God willing , I will still have opportunities to teach them as they grow , but those moments will be different . Embracing these opportunities now fills my soul . But I also wrestle with God and my feelings of anxiousness , nervousness , and inadequacy .
Fortunately , I ’ m not the first person to wrestle with God . Jacob wrestled with God all night . Maybe you understand a little of what he felt . Jacob , whose name meant “ deceiver ” or literally “ grabber ,” had known a life of constant struggle and fear . He had served Laban , his
“ No more ice cream truck
stops , pool floaties to blow up , or neighborhood Nerf gun wars to monitor . ”
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