Then… I Blinked

Grown up kids.

Who would have thought?

Just yesterday they were in my arms.

Depending on me.

Little faces looking up at me while I rocked them.

Hours of rocking and singing.

Singing and rocking.

Who would fall asleep first?

Them or me?

“Go to sleep, oh go to sleep my little Layna” 

Over and over.

The eyes get heavy.

Her little head gets sweaty.

She relaxes into a deep sleep.

Beautiful little Layna.

And the same for our other three.

Then… I blinked.

We have adult children.

Four amazing grown ups.

With lives of their own.

Planning their futures.

Spouses and houses.

Grandkids have been made.

Life is flying by.

And I still get the same kind of feelings.

The ones I had while they were little.

Am I doing enough?

Do they know I care?

Are they alright right now?

Do they need rocked?

No, really?

Sometimes I just wanna rock them.

Hold them tight and sing about my love for them.

Sing loud and rock hard.

Let them know how much Jesus loves them too.

But, this is just not that season anymore.

It just isn’t.

And I get confused.

What is my role?

How do I know?

Am I intruding?

Should I back off?

How do I do this mom of “grown kids” thing?

So much of the time, I feel so inadequate.

Lot’s of times I feel selfish.

Should I be working?

Maybe I shouldn’t.

Maybe I should devote more time to their needs?

Stop typing and knit something, Karen.

But, I don’t knit.

So, there’s that.

I should invite them over for supper tomorrow night.

Oh wait, I have cheerleading.

I’m tired from work.

You see, I have had it all backwards.

I stayed home with them for 20 years.

Now I’m working.

Out in the world loving on high school kids.

Going to football games twice a week.

Writing a blog.

Small group on Thursday.

I feel busy.

Should I stop it all?

People my age are retiring from teaching.

How is it I am just starting?

So, I talk to my daughter.

Little Layna who is all grown up now.

A mature, beautiful 25 year old.

Married, with a dog.

Our grandpuppy.

I tell her my dilemma of not feeling like a good momma.

She says this is not true.

“Do I embarrass you?”

She says no.

“You know, with all I say and do?”

Again, the answer is no.

Not at all, in fact.

She tells me I’m ok.

“You’re our mom, Mom.”

“We love you and we know how much you love us.”

She sweetly tells me to stay in my own lane.

My life looks different than other any other Momma’s.

It always has.

Why?

Well, simply because all of our lives look different.

We all have different stories.

Different dreams.

Different pasts.

Different gifts.

I’m pretty sure this is something to celebrate.

Life is going by so fast.

My lane seems to be somehow speeding up.

Maybe I need to keep my eyes on the road ahead.

Stop looking around and comparing.

I’ve realized this along the way.

When I compare?

I either get really insecure or full of pride.

It doesn’t do any good.

And in a world of social media?

We are comparing snapshots of our lives.

And I can easily get caught up in thinking I’m not enough.

Turns out, little Layna might be right.

My lane today, Lord.

Teach some kids.

Do some laundry.

Drink some coffee.

And this weekend?

I get to rock some grandbabies.