I read this line this morning and I thought "Yes!". Because that's exactly the way I feel about sitting and crying in my therapist office over things (horrible things) that happened so long ago.
And I watched as talk of an abuser turned to talk of mothering and comfort, and then to teaching and prayer, and finally to Jesus. And I am reminded again of the importance of not placing my faith in people. That I have to keep my eyes on Jesus, because people, even good Christian people will fail and let me down.
And I will fail and let other people down.
I told my husband that I realize how completely unprepared I was to be a mother. I knew the mechanics of it, but not the heart and soul. I missed out on opportunities to share with and teach my children, because of my own insecurities. And I'd really like a do-over on so many things. I read about wonderful ways that mothers (and fathers) are building their children up and sharing about Jesus with them every day. And I feel awe and guilt.
I was raised by a preacher, but God and Jesus only showed up at meals and bedtime, and Wednesday night and twice on Sunday. I thought that was how it was supposed to be. And I rail at myself for not seeing it sooner. For not grasping the importance of my job. For not putting my babies first because I was so damned worried about what everyone else might think.
And then I stop and breathe. I remember that I am God's "baby" and He did put me first. And my babies were His long before I came into the picture. I remember sitting alone with each of them in the hospital after each birth, and giving them back to God because there was no way I could be responsible enough to care for these precious souls.
And I know that He holds their hands in His just like He's held mine. He forgives me, and it's long past time I forgive myself.
Just because they are 19 and 22 doesn't mean I have to be done mothering them. I can still talk and share.
But mostly I can forgive and trust.
linking up at imperfect prose on thursdays
