I can’t believe it’s been over a year since I’ve touched this space. Parenting three teenage girls and trying to stay engaged with them and the people nearest us has taken up most every ounce of my bandwidth lately. This isn’t a bad thing, of course, but I do miss having an outlet and the space to process life as it happens.
Sometimes a thought or an idea will float into my head that I’d love to flesh out on a page, but then an interruption comes along. A meal needs to be made. Someone has lost their skirt. A form needs to be turned in. An event needs to be planned. I get hit in the head by a stray volleyball. A conversation needs to be had. (Why do teenagers consistently want to talk about deep and important things after 10 PM?) What I’m realizing is that these interruptions are my life right now, and there is goodness and purpose in leaning in and being fully present to them.
Our oldest one is a senior in high school this year. Having a senior is a difficult thing because all the milestones and special events throughout the year beckon you to look back on the past 18 years and ask yourself if you’ve done enough, if you’ve risen to the task of raising a person. As I think about launching a child into her next chapter in a few months, I can start to panic.
Is she ready for this moment? Have we parented her well enough to send her to another state? Does she even know how to drive to another state? Have we traveled enough? Does she know the Heimlich?
Kendrick has pointed out to me many times, and I quote him: “It’s like you live in flight mode all the time. It seems exhausting.”
Well, it IS a bit tiring.
Fear and worry are the responses I turn to most often when facing any sort of change. I’m not proud of this tendency. But to give myself a bit of grace, it’s a daunting thing to send a child out into the world we live in. It’s even scarier when we carry in our palms and our purses news of all the things that can go wrong.
Still, I don’t think God wants me or you or our children to live our lives from a place of fear. I don’t imagine he wants us to release our seniors or enter into any new season or stretch of our own lives with white knuckles and worried, weary spirits. I have to especially remind myself of this in the middle of the night when my mind is most prone to dreaming up all sorts of worrisome scenarios. From tornadoes to tumors, I promise you, I think about it.
The oldest—the senior—wanted me to play tennis with her over the weekend. I’ve played pickleball in recent months, but it’s been awhile since I swung a real tennis racquet. Nevertheless, I booked the court and off we went. I could hear myself uttering little grunts after each baseline hit that sounded something like Monica Seles in her heyday. The difference is that my grunting wasn’t an expression of power but of frustration and fatigue. Some shots went over and stayed in. Many did not. At one point when I finally hit a decent backhand, Blakeley said, “I bet you were pretty good back in the day.”
I tried really hard to receive that as a compliment, but it’s the “back in the day” part that stings. The reality is, my tennis muscles are out of practice. My forehand is particularly weak, and my right arm and shoulder are still recovering from attempting more serves in one afternoon than I’ve hit in years. I don’t have a strong right hand.
In contrast to my own, God’s hand is described all throughout the Bible as mighty and steady. (He would have a killer forehand). Baker’s Evangelical Dictionary of Biblical Theology says: “The hand of God, and especially the right hand, is understood as a place of salvation, refuge, and protection.”
For I hold you by your right hand—
I, the Lord your God.
And I say to you, ‘Don’t be afraid. I am here to help you.’
Isaiah 41:13
You have given me your shield of victory.
Your right hand supports me;
Your help has made me great.
Psalm 18:35
And then there’s this passage I need to memorize for those nighttime waking hours…
I lie awake thinking of you,
meditating on you through the night.
I think how much you have helped me;
I sing for joy in the shadow of your protecting wings.
I follow close behind you;
your strong right hand holds me securely.
Psalm 63:6-8
I’m always amazed how opposing emotions co-exist at so many of our most important junctures. New seasons are exciting and unsettling all at the same time. Of course we’re happy, but we’re also sad. Yes, we have faith, but we also have worries. We believe, but we need help with our unbelief. I think those of us who trend anxious have to work harder to redirect our thoughts toward hope and trust at every turn.
I need the reminder that I’m in the care of a God who has a “strong right hand [that] holds me securely.” More so, I need the assurance that this same strong right hand holds my children securely.
Ultimately, there’s no safer, better place to be than in the strong right hand of a good God.
May we be the kind of people (and parents) who believe He’s with us, for us, and holding us and those we love securely this spring and in every new season we enter.
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