It’s amazing what taillights do to a mom’s heart. My 17-year-old Man Cub drove off to get a haircut and hang out with friends today. His hands were at 10 and 2. He checked his mirrors. His seatbelt was secure.
But those taillights. They trigger feelings. It’s wonderful and terrible to watch our kids drive away.
The passage in Luke 2 where Jesus stayed back in Jerusalem captures this spirit. His parents did some “anxious searching,” which, as any mom who ever lost her kid in a shopping mall knows, wins the New Testament award for understatement. A full FIVE DAYS LATER Mary found her tween teaching in the temple. I would have put Jesus in time-out. Or taken his X-box away. But Mary treasured these things in her heart.
I guess that’s the zone I was in today too. Treasuring things. Measuring things. My time with the Man Cub feels short. He is balancing pre-calc and chemistry, SAT prep and baseball practice, two jobs and two sets of friends. Empty nest dress rehearsal has begun.
Oh, I’ve been firing myself for years. I’ve long passed off making the bed and making the lunches. The day he wondered why his favorite shirt wasn’t clean, I bought him a hamper and promoted myself from permanent press to permanently done. I taught him to drive. Then I helped him buy the car that points him away from home.
But I didn’t see the taillights coming until I saw them going.
As he drove off today, I whispered a quick prayer for his safety. It flowed into sentences, which gave way to paragraphs. I prayed for my son’s life and for his future wife. I prayed he would never take the lazy route on people by putting them in boxes. I prayed he would never make a terrible decision to cover up a bad decision. I prayed he would live by this transforming truth:
We can come clean to God without coming to God clean.
Soon enough, my internal time management alarm went off. “Time to wrap it up. Time to start the writing.” I grabbed my laptop, poured a cup of coffee and headed to the patio. My first sentence surprised me.
The praying is the writing.
Nope. I am going to write about the palm tree I saw growing up through a sewer grate on Mill Avenue last week. I have this whole thing going on in my head about how life grows in unexpected places. I grew up in a town called Normal, for the love. That’s what I’m writing about.
I deleted my first sentence and typed a second first sentence.
The praying is the writing.
I couldn’t get it out of my head. I couldn’t get it out of my heart. I couldn’t get it off of my screen. So, this week is an open letter to God and my Man Cub and every mama whose heart clenches every time she sees the taillights.
God, please let my son …
yield on the road and in relationships,
build Your kingdom instead of his,
model Your love and grace and justice,
marry a woman who loves You more than she loves him
God, please help my son see …
that this whole thing is not about him,
that real life happens offline,
that if he has to impress people, those aren’t his people,
that this world is where the wild things are, and our job is to love not to tame
God, help my son be …
a place where integrity lives,
a place where #MeToo dies,
a man who isn’t threatened by his wife when she’s strong,
a man who won’t hold it over her when she’s wrong
God, help my son have the courage to …
take blame rather than make excuses,
wash people’s feet instead of bathing himself in pride,
fear failing less than he fears not trying,
embrace that obstacles don’t interfere with life – they are life
God, let my son speak …
difficult no’s in favor of better yeses,
healing words like “Please forgive me” and “I was wrong,”
words that pour dignity and life and worth into people,
truths that strengthen our relationship even if they’re not what I want to hear
God, help my son know …
that losing his way isn’t the same as losing his vision,
that it’s more important to be winsome than it is to win,
that anger will steal his sleep and steel his heart,
that when he’s at his wit’s end he may at be the beginning of You.
Amen.
All my kid did was leave the cul de sac. On a Tuesday. I am going to need oxygen when he leaves the nest. Or a defibrillator. Or skillful administration of both.
In the meantime, I’ll embrace the taillights as much as the headlights. I’ll say the prayers. I may even take a stab at job security by doing a load of his laundry or making his lunches next week.
But I’m not making his bed. That’s where I draw the line.
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Love your heart that speaks for many of us whose nests are emptying.
Laurie, oh my word! This one made me cry. For multiple reasons. First, please be patient with me and my words, you Laurie are the word wizard. So, for my reasons. I remember the day my girls drove away for the first time behind the wheel- without me. I bawled like a baby. They didn’t need me anymore. (So I thought) it was the beginning of pulling away. Independence. I prayed for them too, the way you did (still do.) I also continued to teach them life skills that would help them adult when they left home. Another reason, most of the things you have listed that your Man Cub would do or not do- I have witnessed you and your hubby demonstrate to him. Furthermore I have seen him (the man cub) demonstrate most of these life skills. I have no doubt he will continue to do so in all that he does. Lastly, as our children all grow and mature and come closer to the time they will leave the nest- the best thing we can do is show them the way, teach them the way, introduce them to The Way, pray them through the way and then GET OUT OF THE WAY! We have to trust they will go that way and realize THEY have to do it, we can’t do it for them.
In all honesty, I’m good up to the pray them through-then I begin to struggle. It’s a good thing Jesus loves my kids more than I do! Hard to believe, but it’s true. I would not be able to parent at all with out Jesus.
Thanks for your honesty on how you pray and what you pray for your kiddo. I wanted you to know, you have done well. Love you my friend.
That was beautiful! ❤️
Thank you Laurie! Once a mom always a mom! When you get the call your son/daughter is in the hospital or sick or moving or sad that mother thing just kicks in. You want to drive there or move there or phone the doctor then you remember they are adults and you take your place but your heart still feels what it feels. Bless you friend.
We sure didn’t see it coming when we were bouncing babies on our knees, did we friend? Love that we have that history with our littles — who are now bigs. 💕
Oh Susan. Now who’s making who cry? Your words are dear to me. And I love the show, teach, introduce, pray and get out of the way progression. Beautiful. Difficult. I’m writing them down. Love you too my friend. ❤️
Thank you Esther! ❤️
“Your heart still feels what it feels.” I love that. I’ve watched you for a long time. Watched how you parent. Watched how you launched your kids. Watched how you interact with them now. You did good, mama. You’re doing good. ❤️
What an amazing peice! This brought many memories to the surface and a tear or two to my eye. You are an amazing mama;) You done good 😉
What a wonderful collection of heartfelt… heartwarming …spiritual and reality filled words !
Your words are inspirational and thought provoking ….
Thank you for sharing your intimate moments that we all have had …and some will have in the future…
You express so beautifully a Mom’s heart..that .most of us cannot put In words …
You definitely have captured your heart’s voice…
Thank you so much for sharing…😍🙂♥️♥️♥️💙💙💙
Laurie, I love you! This makes me laugh, it makes me cry. This puts words to all that I feel. Don’t be surprised if mamas everywhere are stealing your words to pray over their children. Thank you for being so incredibly transparent.
So wonderfully said! Someone told me that parenting is like having your heart walk around outside of your body. It’s so true. So thankful to have Jesus beside us!
Terry, that’s so true. I couldn’t do it without Him. I wouldn’t want to.
Cyndi, thank you for this. If one single mama finds one single phrase to “steal,” that thought makes my heart so happy. Sometimes just being reminded of how important it is to pray for my son has made the difference — in my heart and his.
Judy, thank you. Such encouragement! I think all of our mama’s hearts find the words — some of us just use our keyboards. Others say it in quality time with kids. Others say it through affection. It’s all the same story. Thanks for taking a moment to chime in. I love your thoughts. ❤️
You’re such a good mama too! You’ve modeled so many wonderful qualities — and now you get to enjoy each other as adult women. So much life ahead for you!
I loved reading this article (not sure article is the proper term) We mamas and our sons…….such a special and unique relationship— and a huge gift. Speaking of gifts— you are quickly becoming my favorite blogger. You have the gift my friend.. And I think this one is my favorite so far.
I feel like you can call it whatever. Article. Blog. Prayer. Rambling. All of the above? And, the mom-son thing? It really saved me from having to learn to braid hair. But it also really is special and unique. I sometimes miss the chapters just behind us, but then something happens that makes me realize the present is pretty great, too. (But maybe you’ll be ready with oxygen for me next year when he goes to college?)
Wow, Laurie, this so resonated with me. And “the praying is the writing” so beautiful! I have five boys, one out of the nest, two eager to fly, and two little ones holding tight to me still. Still. I so need the “still” of being the mama of the lap, though my ten year old is nearly my size and has outgrown my lap. I love your blog and your writing. And I love you my friend!
Paula, I am late to the party. I’ve missed out on your writing for too long. The beautiful thing about books is they last, and so I’ll be diving in to your words very soon. In the meantime, thank you for reading mine. ❤️