My children. A continuous source of concern. I watch them, listen to them and depair that some of them assume they can be content without God's rudder guiding them. They're determined to go it alone, or, at least, without looking heavenly. Totally foreign to their upbringing.
I set aside moments and days to recuperate from all this nonsense. Sometimes interruptions elbow their way in, but sometimes not.
A few months ago, oldest daughter met a young man, spent time with him, and at first it was fun. Then he began to be odd and demanding of her time. Concerning in a way. One Sunday, in the midst of their friendship, she borrowed a friend's 4 year old daughter to sit with her at church. She looked at me and said she just needed a dose of normal.
Sometimes I need a dose of it myself.
My husband continues to heal, ever so slowly, from the kidney donation. He's had a virus, and his remaining kidney has to work harder to help him get well. He says he wants himself back. Takes time.
As some of our children continue to rebel, we pray daily for God's hand of protection while they dabble in the world's very tantalizing playground. And sometimes it feels like our breath has been drained from our chests, so daring are our children's behaviors.
At this moment I can hear the house heater shut off. The rooms are warm. It rained earlier and the day is cloudy. A slow day. God's movements tend to be long and drawn out. Ours the opposite. We want it now. He says to hang onto Me as I work things out.
Today I'll do my best to listen to that Voice. Slow it goes.