Bringing Our Children Home this Christmas

I’m re-posting from my old blog today. I thought it was timely during a time of year when many children and family members are traveling.   Blessings!

I sat on the blue leather sofa, gas fireplace burning, as the first light of day broke through the darkness. The house was mine at this hour. Even the dog left me alone. Time with God. Quiet. Calm. Uninterrupted.

And so, I prayed, as I did so often recently, “Please God, cover him. Keep him safe. Help me to trust you.” God knew that prayer was coming every day while my son was overseas last year, in a remote village, in a country that was giving him the experience of a lifetime.

For me, it was the first time that he had been that far away, without a group of friends or people we knew and trusted to look out for him. I trusted our son enough to let him go, but once he was gone, I had to learn to have faith that he would be okay.

There was nothing that I could do 7,500 miles away.

Despite one stint in the local “hospital,” our son arrived home unharmed — a little thinner, older, and wiser, but safe. God kept him safe and healthy. And, brought him home.

Today, my prayers in these early morning hours have shifted. Our son is across the country, no longer in a poverty-stricken country. Instead, he is in the throes of urban-American-big-city life, grappling with his faith.

It is a familiar place. I grappled with my faith at his age, too. Questioning, doubting, not finding God relevant or consistent with the life I thought I wanted. Turning away as I lived a life that was less than what I knew was desirable. And, so, I have hope and faith that my son will grapple and fall back into the arms of a loving God.  I see him turning back towards God, slowly.  On his own terms.

As a mom, I have few details about my son’s internal struggles. But the details don’t matter. He needs to grapple with his faith, more so than he needed to go to Africa to grow into a young man.

I cannot tell him what faith is or what it should look like. He has known what faith is and who God is, but he needs it to be real and authentic for it to remain that way.

Rather, I need my son to know that it is okay–even good–that he is grappling with his faith. I need to let him know that I love him unconditionally. No matter what.

So, he seeks.

And so, I sit on the blue leather sofa, gas fireplace burning, as the first light of day breaks through the darkness. Time with God. Quiet. Calm. Uninterrupted. And, I pray, “God, cover him. Guard his heart. Reveal yourself to him. Pursue him.”

God is faithful. I need to trust Him completely. Instead of asking God to bring our son home safely to us, I ask God to bring him home safely to Him.

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Posted on December 14, 2010, in Christianity, Faith, family, Hope, love, parenting and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. God is faithful indeed. You speak with passion on how much you truly love your son. Children are indeed a reminder of God’s love. Thank you for sharing.

  2. JR – Children are such a blessing. God has blessed me more than I ever could imagine with my two beautiful children. –Godspeed, Elizabeth

  3. Elizabeth, What a wonderful prayer. I have those in my life that I am praying the same thing for, that God pursue them and reveal Himself to them. But I find that the prayer is the easy part. Trusting that He will answer it, when I know those I pray for have free will, is the hard part. Peace, Linda

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