Have you ever felt like you made a parenting boo-boo?
I know I have, often.
For the past few years, we’ve talked about missions with our kids as a part of our life. We’ve had many conversations about how life will be different, the adjustments we’ll need to make and occasionally, we’d ask them – “In the unlikely scenario Papa and Mama die in the field, who from Singapore do you want to come get you?”
It’s always been a difficult scenario for both Cliff and I to imagine. I’ve shed tears just thinking about it. But we must – it’s a part of counting the cost.
Our children, in their childlikeness, would listen and laugh about it, and list a few names.
This week, after we signed our wills, I asked the kids again.
We decided we needed a protocol for when things turned awry.
But this time, when I asked them the same question, their response was completely different.
Now older, the mere contemplation of it caused them to both burst into tears.
What was I doing?
Lately, as we prepare for our move, I’ve felt a strange sense of destabilisation.
The slowly emptying house, the dwindling guests, my slow withdrawal from social events… has been a strange evolution.
I’m thinking – I’m sure the kids feel it too.
Since our potential landlord in Tanzania withdrew our potential home, I’ve been trying to find another home. I secured one recently, only to discover she also changed her mind.
I’m learning, how nothing is really certain.
Yet, my role as a parent is to provide certainty to my kids.
Things started to get real for me when one of my kids, discovering she couldn’t bring her bunny bolster because it’s too big, burst into tears.
“Mama, can I use a permanent marker to write Bunny on her shirt, then bring the shirt along so I can remember her?”
Of all the things I’ve had to sell and give away, this moment teared me up the most.
“In our home, you can cry, sweetheart. You can have mixed feelings. You are allowed to grieve. We will all do this together,” I said.
Just two days ago, my firstborn dropped a piece of fried chicken on the ground as we celebrated Cliff’s birthday. She teared up.
“Here, let me give you another,” I said.
“Wow, Mama. This piece is bigger than the piece I lost. Why are you so good to me?”
As my kids teared, as we pondered about what our future held, I suddenly remembered the fried chicken and shared, “Girls, do you know that often, when we feel like we’ve lost something, God gives us something good to replace it still? And sometimes, guess what? It’s even better than what we lost.”
As we keep “losing” homes, I pray white-knuckled prayers that God will help us find the home we need – the best one He knows is for us.
God, if we step out of the boat, will you be there on the other side?
Perhaps, what we must remember is this – that for all of our losses, God always provides because He loves us.
His love makes us ask Him like my child asked me when she lost her fried chicken, “Why are you so good to me?”
I’m waiting, Lord. Come through.
“Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all.” – Phil 3:8-10
