Have you ever been in a situation that feels so surreal that you have to pinch yourself to be sure it’s happening?
That, my friends, was up my morning.
First, I had the privilege of watching my dear childhood friend shoot Camron’s Senior pictures. I still can’t believe it’s time for this. All morning I kept remembering him as a newborn, a toddler, and a cheeky little cub scout. But now he’s a few steps from manhood–and I’m not ready.
Sunrise, Sunset played on repeat in the recesses of my mind as I watched my oldest son, the first arrow in my quiver (Psalm 127:3-5), pose for various shots. And a complex mixture of pride and profound sadness filled my heart as I looked ahead to next fall. Pride for the young man he has become and sadness because I know I’m going to need to launch that arrow out into the world. I continually ask God to give me the grace I’ll need for when the time comes–because right now, I’m far from ready.
Second, watching Camron and my friend talk and laugh together sent a shockwave of joy into my heart. To an outsider, they looked like they’d known each other for years! But that’s not the case. My friend and I were reunited about two months ago (you can read more of our story here), and they met for the first time this morning. Their fondness for each other was evident as was the enjoyment they found in each other’s company.
This was yet another blessing from our “impossible” reunion. And while we walked the grounds of the boathouse where Camron practices rowing, I couldn’t stop thinking about the friendship between Jonathan and David (1 Samuel 18:1). And how years, separation, and distance hadn’t changed the affection between my friend and me—just like an angry, murderous king didn’t change their affection for each other.
Lastly, after my friend snapped the last photo and left for her next appointment, Camron and I took the opportunity to catch a late breakfast. Afterward, we wandered next door to LifeWay. While he looked for a new Bible study, I perused the shelves taking in the names of several women I admire. As I reached for one of their studies: I saw a vision of mine on the shelf–the title was blurred, but my name was on the bottom. I stopped and pulled my hand back shaking. I was confused and scared. Then God whispered to my heart: “Baby, I’m giving you the necessary grace now. I’m strengthening your arm to launch your sons into the world, under My care. You’ve trained them up in the way they should go; they won’t depart from it (Proverbs 22:6). And I’m giving you this ministry for your next phase life. Trust me.”
I confess, my vision is blurry with tears, and my heart is a little raw as I write this. I’m sure if I waited a few days this post would be more polished and refined.
But I promised to be honest.
No, I’m not ready to let my boys go. But I trust God’s grace will be sufficient for when the time comes, despite the tears (2 Corinthians 12:9-10). And when my quiver is empty, somehow, I don’t think my house will be. Between writing, ministry, and mentoring there will always be someone to pour into, someone to love, someone to teach, and someone to introduce to Jesus. Thank you for being on the journey with me.