Maybe it’s a curse to take every moment of the day and feel the need to grasp the ‘deeper meaning.’ I’m certain many (including my husband) would like to tell me “it is what it is” Shannon, that is it, nothing else. My husband has a great faith but ‘it is what it is’ is what get’s him by. “Don’t pine over what was or what could be, accept what is and make it the best it can be.” That’s Neal’s way.
My way? I agree with Neal…but my ‘curse’ is digging deeper into what is.
This morning I confided in a friend a big fear that is keeping me from accomplishing a task I know God is calling me to…later this evening I tried to explain to my 11 1/2 year old son the same fear. He had taken longer than the rest of us to eat his dinner and was left alone at the table. I asked him what was wrong, did he not like the food? He answered, “I don’t like to eat by myself.” Without missing a beat I grabbed my glass of wine and sat down next to him. “I’ll talk to you. I’m sorry we got up and left you.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You guys eat too fast,” he said. I nodded, realizing I had never recognized the reason why Ryan was always the last one at the table. I assumed he never liked what I cooked.
I took a sip of wine and decided I would try having an adult conversation with him. It just so happens that the particular project I am facing fear in accomplishing is the very same project Ryan requested of me about a year ago. I decided to confide in him the fear that was keeping me from completing something he felt that was so simple. He dropped his fork and looked at me his eyes full of disbelief. “Mom,” he said this term of endearment with a hint of adult chastisement, “What do you care what others might think of you? You are writing about God, who cares what other people think?” I smiled, pleased he was set firmly in this understanding. I tried to explain that it wasn’t what other people thought but more of a fear of possible success.
“What?!” he dropped his fork and looked at me incredulously. “Mom. You are a disciple, that is what you do. You help others know God. This will help you do that! What’s the deal?”
I stared at my sweet boy growing quickly into a young man. I looked into the same beautiful eyes that led me on my knees and in the hands of God and His ultimate control nearly 9 years ago. I couldn’t speak. I just wanted to cry.
Maybe it was the glass of wine?
Or maybe I’m just foolish.
Without skipping a beat Ryan was done and asked, “Can I go ride my bike?”
“Sure,” I said, my throat tight. He took his plate to the sink and left the kitchen just as the first crocodile tear rolled down my cheek.
Grow up, Shannon, I thought to myself. Get over yourself and get on with it.
What else can I say?
Blessings
Shannon