Say A Little. Do A Little. Hope, Trust and Pray A lot.

Let me tell you something, people.  I was a bit of a mess this morning.  I'm not exactly sure why I woke up like this.  Just the other day I was talking to my mom and saying that I had gone to bed the night before, marveling with a bit of guilt and a lot gratitude at the ease of things lately.  Certainly, I get (overly) stressed about things like planning schedules and cooking dinners and finding all the school supplies and spending money on three new pairs of baseball cleats, but everything is just so normal and fine and easy.  And I am so very grateful. 

So why does the ease and the normal and the fine make me so very unsettled this morning?  Maybe, it's because I have this way of wanting to bottle it up, to keep it safe and snug, to hoard it, so that the future won't jump in and and jack it all up.

I'm feeling itchy about time moving so fast and kids getting so big and my face getting so wrinkled.  It might have to do with the fact that I've been praying along with a mom who sent her son to college this week.  It might be because every time I look at Facebook this week I see friends' photos of their children off to college or starting the first day of a new grade at school.  It might be because someone sent me THIS.  It could be all of that and then some.*

It could be that I took a bunch of photos of Joe yesterday at the golf course and something is happening.  It's been happening all summer.  He was slightly taller than me in April.  Now he's got me by 4 or 5 inches.  His face is losing some of its roundness.  His shoulders are widening and his stance is stronger.

His golf coach has a brand new baby boy and just before the match began, he showed me pictures. I stared down at that precious new little man and thought with envy of all the time his parents have to tell him and teach him and mold him.  Then I stared across the cart path at my boy-on-the-verge-of-man with my mouth wide open thinking,

"What in Sam Hill is going on here? Dear God, haven't I missed something?  When he was three, when he was nine, when he was twelve? I've got four more years until he goes.
I've got to do something or fix something or say something.
I've forgotten so many things.  I've got so much more to tell him.  I've got so much more to remind him.  I've got so much more to do for him.  So far he is good and safe and making the right decisions.  But, when I get this itchy feeling, I am realizing that I'm running out of time.  I need more time.  I've got to get more time before I forget all the things I have to say and do."

The fact is that what a day like this is all about is one thing:  control.  It is about the fact that I do not control time, I do not control the path of my children, I do not control all the things that I want so desperately to control.  And on a day like this, if God needs a big ol' laugh, He could  just tune the channel to my "plans" which must be Heaven TV's version of Comedy Central.

What I realize is that certainly, there may be things I need to do and say.  Lots of things.  But the most important thing I need to do is to hope and to trust and to believe.  And if I can't do that, then I need to hit my knees and just pray.

And oh, did I find the right prayer this morning.  The mom for whom I've been praying provided the link.  And I read it three times and printed it and stuck it right on my desk.

Go HERE to read it and print it for yourself.

And by the way, I also decided that today, I much prefer this photo of my boy on the golf course.  Lookie there -  he ain't all that big. 

*Are you shouting, "Hey, girlfriend, go check what day of the month it is on your calendar!"?  Just did.  Mmmhmmm. Bingo.