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Change and the Unchangable

I superglued my fingers together first thing this morning.


Happy Thursday friends.


I was trying to fix the heel on my dress shoes after they broke, unbeknownst to me, DURING my Sunday School lesson. A sweet deacon brought it to me as I was heading to the choir line. I pretended it was nothing, but I was completely embarrassed.


I slipped the heel back on and somehow got up on the riser and sang about God's grace to a crowd and totally meant every single word. I had to just laugh at myself.


And yet it perfectly sums-up these last few months.


A bit broken, but functioning - albeit a tad wonky, and a heaping of grace on the whole mess.


It's like the War of 1812 was just around the corner for my firstborn son and I.


(History references are my fav)


There was my territory and his.


and his was very very messy.


We will not take time to try to investigate which one of us was Britain and which one was the U.S, but I will say that one of us was having too easy of a time influencing some Native Americans towards rebellion......


He is ready to fly the coop and sometimes I am ready to get him his boarding pass.


And sometimes I want to make a little side coop and keep him just a bit longer.


No one tells you that you will have equal amounts of sadness and frustration when your son leaves home.


They also don't tell you that you will need to go "full blown waterproof" mascara from now until the Lord comes back. "water resistant" just won't cut it for the rest of your life.


He's ready to spread his wings and fly into what God has called him to, and yet I want him to stop rustling my nest and get in line with the other hatchlings.


Since May I've struggled with this transition.


And then there was this God-appointed moment in the kitchen.


Don't most amazing and hard things happen in the kitchen for some reason?


I wrapped my arms around his middle and told him I was just struggling with him going and he gave me a sweet glimpse of his "30 year-old self."


He said, "Mom, let me go. I'll come back so much better."


It was poignant and precious and just what this Momma needed to hear.


He is wanting to become more of what God is calling him to be. And that's an amazing thing.


And deep deep down next to the fritos I ate in sad hunger last night that is what I want for him too.


And isn't that what we ALL desire?


"being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ;" Philippians 1:6


I'm watching a dear table with a trio of white-haired ladies as I type and devour a chocolate croissant, and I'm wondering what I will look like at a table in my 70's.


I hope I still lick the raw sugar off the foam of a cappuccino.


I hope I finally learn how to spell cappuccino without spell check also.


What I do know is that "Let go and Let God," is taking on a whole new meaning for me these days.


I realize that there are hundreds and hundreds of Mommas who have stood in my shoes, but today they are MY 6 1/2's.


And God is big enough to carry both me AND my impulsive 19 year old.


"And even to your old age I am he; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you: I have made, and I will bear; even I will carry, and will deliver you." Isaiah 46:4


HE knows how I will miss his laugh and hugs.


How I'll be so homesick for belly-laughs over his most recent embarrassing story and for our one-liners that remind us that we "get" one another.


For now I'll help him once again count his dress shirts to reassess if he does indeed have enough, and give him tips on sorting laundry.


I'll smile and let him share my McDonald's iced coffee because somewhere I do have such a soft spot for him.


I'll dream with him of what kind of wife he will have and roll my eyes playing around with the thought that she will indeed be a shy wall flower that will think I am loud and obnoxious. No doubt she'll not know how to cook too. We just laugh and laugh.


I'll pretend I have been waiting for him to just come home from work so I can help him find all the things he has lost. Again.


I'll let him come in our room EVERY evening while we are in bed reading or watching something to make us laugh and listen to him say, "Is this what it's like being married?" And I'll tell him it is wonderful and I'll watch my husband wrestle with him trying to get in our bed just to make his dad frustrated.


I'll listen to him encourage his brothers to skip breakfast if they haven't read their bibles, and rejoice when we tells me what the Holy Spirit has recently convicted him of.


I'll enjoy helping him pick out an iron because he wants my input, and I will squeeze every single hug out of him until he walks away from the car and we drive off.


And I will stretch and learn how God will meet me in every ounce of this and I will NOT feel badly about feeling bad, feeling sad or feeling like I just might want to go back and watch him get his big teeth in again because they were massive for his mouth and it was hilarious.


I will not feel badly because that's just silly. And I am not in competition or comparison with anyone. And I will blog about it because it's what I do to try to encourage someone else. And I will only be embarrassed about just how fast I ate my chocolate croissant.


I am watching my family change.


Today we woke seriously late and it was wonderful to hear the boys wrestling and come downstairs to the girls reading over cereal.


All of us were there.


I won't end this like you think I will.


I will not tell you to hug your little ones tighter, or take more pictures of big front teeth, though those are both great ideas.


I WILL tell you that change is coming.


It is coming to your neck of the woods friends.


it's coming silently as new books arrive and as you scroll online for longer boy's pants.


It creeps into your living spaces and even leaves gray hairs while you are washing the dishes and smelling to see if the laundry pile is actually clean.


Change leaves you with new lumps in your throat and new squishy spots on your body that you never really thought about.


It gives you so many memories to laugh and cry at and hold onto with all of your might.


It makes pastries taste better and late night peanut butter toast glorious.


Change brings alllll the feels.


It brings the good and the bad and the hormotional.


It makes you sound like your Mother and makes you notice your husband's adorable smile lines.


Change is a phenomenal reminder that you are living the most remarkable life.


I'm not going to say "I told you so," (well I will if your mascara runs... you've been forewarned) but I will tell you that if you sit in the corner and just pretend to be a fly on the wall at home you will see change come right in the front door and rearrange the furniture right before your misty eyes.


If you want you can give me a call and I will meet you for a hot cup of thanksgiving. (440.263.6623) if you know how I hate talking on the phone you will understand how golden this offer is.


If you need a phone hug call me. I'll listen and I'll pray over you and I will no doubt cry with you, because I have tears for the world.


If you are close to where the War of 1812's "Battle of Lake Erie" went down, the cappuccino is on me friend.


For serious.


Change is worth some raw sugar sprinkled on top.
















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