{growing pains}

A mom always knows.

"How old is your baby?"

"Nine days," she smiles proudly.

Not a week.  Nope, nine days, to be exact.

"How old is your baby?"

"16 months," she answers sweetly.

Any age between one year and two, a dad will say his baby is a year and a half.
But a mom always knows.

"He's 16 months."

I've discovered something in the past few weeks.

That innate ability "to know" doesn't change or go away with time.
It's built into our psyche as moms.  It's part of who we are.

For just as I tracked with each day, week, and month of his young life, I'm now tracking with the weeks since he left our home.

"Three weeks today."

And frankly, it feels like forever.

For while we're doing well---
while he's blossoming and growing in every way---
it's hard to settle into a new normal.
Just. plain. hard.
For everything has changed.
It's new dynamics.
The absence of one of us.
The end of an era.
I can know in my head that this is good and right (and it is).
But my mama's heart is lagging behind a bit.
It's taking a bit to convince it of what my head already knows.

On Sunday night I was talking with a friend who's been down this road four times over.
"It's been almost three weeks," I lamented.
"You'd think I'd be through the grieving part by now."
"Oh, no," she replied,  "it takes months."
And with that, the besetting guilt that I've been carrying these weeks lifted.
For in some ways,
I've placed tremendous pressure upon myself to "just get over it."
"Release---it's what we were made to do,"
I've been told over and over.
While that's true,
the process still hurts.
The pain is still real.

Yet even in the midst of my heart's deep ache,
I'm reminded that it's exactly in this place where God delights in working and bringing new growth.
It's in this pain that I call out to Him,
that I run to Him,
that I abide in Him.
And it's here that He speaks courage and hope into my heart; that He reminds me of Truth; that He holds me close and whispers His precious promises over my soul.

This letting go thing:
I can't exactly say I love it.
But I can say I'm grateful for it.
For it's here with my hands wide open that God is filling me and teaching me and ministering to me.
And there's no better place I'd rather be.

"The eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are the everlasting arms."

Deuteronomy 33:27

P.S.  On a lighter note, I'm grateful for our little mother-son connections;
those grace-filled reminders that our hearts are still united,
whether it be a text like the picture on left (followed up by my return text on right),
a text on our younger boys' first day of school to let me know he's praying for me,
or facetime laughter as an entire family of five (plus the pooch).
Yup, grace all over the place!