It’s ridiculously early in the morning, and he is awake for the third time that night. We rock; I hum. Finally, lulled into a peaceful slumber, I oh-so-gently lay him in his bed. Kneeling beside him with my hand on his stomach, so he knows I’m still there, I begin to pray.
First for me,
Dear Heavenly Father, I need your help. I feel like I am messing this whole parenting thing up. Please, Lord, grant me the wisdom, strength, perseverance to run the race you have set out before me. Help me to shape Simon into the man you desire for him to be. And when I fall down, when I mess up, please, Oh Lord, fill in the gaps.
And then for him,
Please, oh God, watch out for him. Hold him. Help him to grow up to be a God-fearing, respectable man, with a heart for the hurting. I want him to be sold-out for you, Lord. Humble, self-controlled, not ruled by selfish desires. Please, purify his heart, Lord. In your Son’s name I pray, Amen.
And then I take a deep breath and make the silent-as-possible trek back to my own bed, but when my head hits the pillow, I don’t go right to sleep.
I’m exhausted, but my mind is whirling with the possibilities of the future. Some are good, great actually. Others are absolutely terrifying.
I worry about how my parenting choices will affect Simon’s future. Should we homeschool or send him to public school? What if we foster or adopt; how will that affect him? Does he watch too much TV? Do I read to him enough?
And then I thank God that I am not doing this alone.
Not only did God grant me a wonderful husband, who is also an amazing dad (and trust me, I don’t take this lightly), but God is with us.
And even on my worst days, God is still working in my child’s life. Even when I’m selfish and get frustrated, He is filling in the gaps.
My son is not even two, and I can already tell that parenting will be the hardest thing I ever do.
And that is why I am insanely grateful that we have access to the throne. When I fail (and I do a lot), I can cry out to God. I can call out to Him, and He hears me. I confess, and I am strengthened by Him, the One who has the power to bring the dead back to life!
And He loves Simon more than I do.
It’s hard to fathom this because my love is like an unstoppable torrential downpour, a force to be reckoned with. But just as God came down in the flesh and stretched His arms on a cross for me, He did so for my son, too.
And then I sit up in bed because, though I have heard it a million different times, I finally grasp that at the end of Simon’s 18 years in my house all that will matter is if I told him about Jesus.
All that matters is Simon’s salvation. I know that I will have to repeat this to myself every day for probably the rest of my life, but it’s such a beautiful promise. I can make all of the wrong parenting decisions, but if Simon accepts Jesus as His Lord and Savior, the end result is the same.
John was talking about his spiritual children when he wrote this, but I’m fairly certain we can apply this to our biological ones, too.
I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth. 3 John 1:4
No greater joy, indeed.
Thank you, God, for loving our children more.
God Loves Our Children More was originally posted on my old blog, Faith, Fun and the Fergusons. I needed this reminder, again, so I’m sharing it here with you.
Go love well.
If you liked this post, check out:
How to Parent With Humility and God’s Strength