So often on this journey through life I have no idea what to do, what to say, how to act, react, what to allow, what to stop, when to applaud, encourage, discourage, mediate, fix, be still, be silent, say less, say more, embrace, love on, cry with, let go, or lift high.
Last week after an incident between my boys, I sat at the table with one, his anger spilling into defiant, defensive, angry, aggressive words and a desire for vindication, the other pounding his anger into soft, spring earth longing for release from pain I didn't know he felt. As my second son skulked back in and dropped into a chair at the table, emotion roiling in his eyes, I quietly sat beside him and laid my hand on his arm. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"It's not Kyle," he finally choked out, his body convulsing, tears falling, fists clenched against the pain, "It's me. I can deal with Kyle. It's me. I just don't want to be me."
There were no words in my heart, only tears spilling onto the table with his, because this is life with Sam's diseases, and short of a miracle or medical breakthrough, I can't say, "This'll get better, just hold on a little while longer," because it won't, and Sam knows it.
So how, as a Mom, do you know when to speak and when to be silent? When anger is simply anger and when it's the symptom of something more, something deeper, something too big to navigate alone? How do you know when to allow your child to struggle with, muddle through, and finally figure out a situation on their own, and when to step in and lovingly guide them through it?
I honestly don't know. I didn't know a week ago, and I didn't know a few days later when I could only quietly say to my angry oldest son, "You're right. I'm not enough, not enough as your teacher or your mom or as a wife or friend or daughter or writer. I will always love you, but I will never, ever be enough, and I'm sorry."
There were no other words, only tears, nothing I could say or do to fill the emptiness inside my son or right his world, and it hurt. I will never be enough, but I wasn't created to be enough. I can only love and guide and pray, and allow the One who is enough to touch my son's heart and fill the empty, aching longing in his soul.
Every minute, every word, every breath of this journey is a choice, God or me. Do I seek His beauty in the midst of chaos or allow the circumstances to overwhelm me? Choose to live in the power of His Spirit or rely on my own strength and ambition? Choose His will, His way in His time or settle myself on the throne of my own life? It can't be both ways. It's either God or me. Why then would I choose me, the one who is not, who will never be, enough when I can choose God, the One is the One who is so much more than enough -- absolutely always enough?
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