When I was in my childbearing years, I dreamed of having a daughter. My imagination always revolved around a daughter, probably because of how close I was to my mother. I was her best friend, never once questioning that perhaps she shouldn’t have leaned on me for that. I was consumed with solving her problems. Helping her find relief for her anxiety became my role in life. When she died, I felt displaced. God showed me over the years that I was never created for my mother, but for Him.
My first awakening came when God gave me two sons who turned out to be pillars of strength in the family. The second was when God informed me that He didn’t give me children so that I could have a best friend. My role as a mother is to love them, raise them, and set them free to fly. The first time I thought about my sons leaving the nest, I couldn’t stop crying. After they left, I was holding my breath, waiting to inhale when they returned. That coping mechanism didn’t work very well.
At first, when they were in college, I could look forward to the next time they would be home on break. But as they grew into adults, the time between visits grew longer and their planned trips home subject to the demands of corporate America. I eventually realized that I had to learn to lay down my expectations. Meanwhile, God’s plan for me was not to put life on hold waiting to hear my children’s plans. I had to learn the art of loving and releasing.
John Townsend described it as “feeling your heart rip but letting it rip anyway.” His teaching helped me in a time of transition. He explained that “The Hebrew word for ‘leave’ in Gen. 2:24 can be translated as ‘to abandon or make desolate.’ The idea is that for the child to individuate properly from the parents and to find their own identity and purpose, they must ‘abandon’ their parents and become emotionally, spiritually, and financially autonomous. A good parent will bear that pain for the sake of the child’s growth.”
For some children, God’s plan for them is to stay close. They were meant to be part of the work God is doing through the parents or a source of continual support. For others, God’s plans may take them to other cities or even to the other end of the world. You may ask why, but God doesn’t owe us an answer. Why did God’s plan require Jesus to leave heaven? Why did the Apostles all go their separate ways? Why did Paul go to the Gentiles while Peter stayed in Jerusalem? Some missions require separation before God’s plans can be accomplished. The idea is not to force a plan, but to follow the plan God designed. In our desire to manage the future, we may feel tempted to fill in the names for the seats at our table just to have some assurance that the seat won’t be empty. But God knows the timing of when the seat will be filled and how He can use it to for another in need of family. At the end of the day, we realize how little control we really have; we simply get to be a part of what God allows to happen.
When my granddaughter was born, I asked, “Is this the daughter I’ve always wanted?” I expected to feel differently. I found that my grandson was just as great a delight to me as my granddaughter, she simply gave me an excuse to shop for ribbons and lace. I knew then that the transition had been made where I no longer looked to my children or my grandchildren to fill my void. Jesus fills the void by giving me purpose—that includes my children and grandchildren but encompasses so much more. When God defines our purpose, we find our voice the same way we encourage our children and grandchildren to find theirs. In this, there is great peace!
