a familiar ache
Sometimes my emotions sneak up on me out of nowhere.
It happened to me earlier this week in Hobby Lobby. I stopped there with a specific thought in mind and found myself wandering every aisle...as one does.
As I rounded the corner into one particular aisle I was overwhelmed by pink. This aisle was filled with items meant for a little girls room. There were verses for the wall about being brave and Godly and suddenly I found my heart overwhelmed with a familiar ache. There was a yearning to have some spunky little girl I could decorate a room for. I longed to fill the walls with prayers and words to tell her how loved and wanted she is. I felt a deep urge to build a safe space for her to grow that would inspire her to be fierce.
I sped out of the aisle as quickly as I entered it, before tears could over take me. (Nobody wants to be the weirdo crying in the Hobby Lobby.)
These moments catch me off guard. I often find myself wondering if I will ever have the chance to be a mom. To love someone and pour myself out for them not because they have earned it in anyway, but simply because they are mine. Not even necessarily that they came from my body, but that they are mine in my heart.
Right now, all the little people I have to invest in, I have for moments and then I give them back. I teach them in Sunday school or summer camp, I rock them while I talk to their parents about housing and budgets. I visit them for a weekend and sneak in their room to play before their parents wake up. I Snapchat them and FaceTime them. Even the ones that are my own flesh and blood I love and cuddle, dance and sing, tickle and tease, heck even potty train...but then I go home.
Over the years of youth ministry I have invested in a lot of kids who weren't my own. It's pretty infrequent to see much result out of that. Kids grow up, move away and might wish me a happy birthday on Facebook every year but that's about the level of contact, because they are busy with their lives. As they should be. I am proud of "my kids."
Today I had a tiny peak at some of the result of my efforts. Several years ago when I moved back to Michigan, I became acquainted with my neighbors. Their youngest was in fifth grade or so at the time. He became my little pal. He would come to activities at our little church whenever he could. One of the ones that impacted him the most was our theatrical productions. He has been in them from the first.
Today, I want to his high school production of "Fiddler on the Roof." My little pal is a junior now. He is big and tall and brimming with life and confidence. He had the leading roll of Tevye.
Guys, I am not even exaggerating when I say, HE WAS AWESOME.
I was bursting with pride for this kid today. I still am. I was in AWE of how incredibly he did.
I had gone to the play with my theatrical partner in crime, my cowriter and director of every play we have done since I came home.
When we finally broke threw the crowd swarming him after it was over, he squeezed me so tight. He told us that we had set this whole thing in motion by starting him in theater in the first place. We told him when he wins his Tony, not to forget us in his speech.
As I tried to come down from the high of this epic performance, the old ache returned once more.
"Wouldn't it be amazing to watch your actual son or daughter to perform like that?"
I confess, it would.
I think my heart would explode with love and pride because if I could feel so much for a child who wasn't "mine" how much more would I have for one who was?
But there is some sweet to that bitter. Perhaps I will never beam with pride over my own child, but somewhere along the way, I have had an impact...perhaps in small ways but that's ok.
I don't need to turn the world upside down. I need to be faithful in the small things that matter. Rocking the babies, facetiming, tickle fights, dance parties, snapchats, telling kids who are stage fright that they are awesome and they can do it.
Perhaps that's all I'll ever do...
I want to say that that's ok and if it is I know it will be.
That old ache is still real, but this journey is long and if I can make a small imprint in some lives along the way I know the Lord will bless that.
It happened to me earlier this week in Hobby Lobby. I stopped there with a specific thought in mind and found myself wandering every aisle...as one does.
As I rounded the corner into one particular aisle I was overwhelmed by pink. This aisle was filled with items meant for a little girls room. There were verses for the wall about being brave and Godly and suddenly I found my heart overwhelmed with a familiar ache. There was a yearning to have some spunky little girl I could decorate a room for. I longed to fill the walls with prayers and words to tell her how loved and wanted she is. I felt a deep urge to build a safe space for her to grow that would inspire her to be fierce.
I sped out of the aisle as quickly as I entered it, before tears could over take me. (Nobody wants to be the weirdo crying in the Hobby Lobby.)
These moments catch me off guard. I often find myself wondering if I will ever have the chance to be a mom. To love someone and pour myself out for them not because they have earned it in anyway, but simply because they are mine. Not even necessarily that they came from my body, but that they are mine in my heart.
Right now, all the little people I have to invest in, I have for moments and then I give them back. I teach them in Sunday school or summer camp, I rock them while I talk to their parents about housing and budgets. I visit them for a weekend and sneak in their room to play before their parents wake up. I Snapchat them and FaceTime them. Even the ones that are my own flesh and blood I love and cuddle, dance and sing, tickle and tease, heck even potty train...but then I go home.
Over the years of youth ministry I have invested in a lot of kids who weren't my own. It's pretty infrequent to see much result out of that. Kids grow up, move away and might wish me a happy birthday on Facebook every year but that's about the level of contact, because they are busy with their lives. As they should be. I am proud of "my kids."
Today I had a tiny peak at some of the result of my efforts. Several years ago when I moved back to Michigan, I became acquainted with my neighbors. Their youngest was in fifth grade or so at the time. He became my little pal. He would come to activities at our little church whenever he could. One of the ones that impacted him the most was our theatrical productions. He has been in them from the first.
Today, I want to his high school production of "Fiddler on the Roof." My little pal is a junior now. He is big and tall and brimming with life and confidence. He had the leading roll of Tevye.
Guys, I am not even exaggerating when I say, HE WAS AWESOME.
I was bursting with pride for this kid today. I still am. I was in AWE of how incredibly he did.
I had gone to the play with my theatrical partner in crime, my cowriter and director of every play we have done since I came home.
When we finally broke threw the crowd swarming him after it was over, he squeezed me so tight. He told us that we had set this whole thing in motion by starting him in theater in the first place. We told him when he wins his Tony, not to forget us in his speech.
As I tried to come down from the high of this epic performance, the old ache returned once more.
"Wouldn't it be amazing to watch your actual son or daughter to perform like that?"
I confess, it would.
I think my heart would explode with love and pride because if I could feel so much for a child who wasn't "mine" how much more would I have for one who was?
But there is some sweet to that bitter. Perhaps I will never beam with pride over my own child, but somewhere along the way, I have had an impact...perhaps in small ways but that's ok.
I don't need to turn the world upside down. I need to be faithful in the small things that matter. Rocking the babies, facetiming, tickle fights, dance parties, snapchats, telling kids who are stage fright that they are awesome and they can do it.
Perhaps that's all I'll ever do...
I want to say that that's ok and if it is I know it will be.
That old ache is still real, but this journey is long and if I can make a small imprint in some lives along the way I know the Lord will bless that.
Comments
Post a Comment