My babies belong to God…
As a mom, whey they first lay that baby in your arms, all you can see is the innocence and the beauty, and you can't imagine that anything could ever go wrong.
You snuggle that baby, and you pour your heart and your life into caring for this wee one, praying all along for the strength to be the best mom that you can be.
And as the years go by and the kids grow up, it's so easy as a mama to hang on tight, to want to fix the hurts, to heal the wounds, and most of all, to take away the pain.
Wether they're 5 or 25, the love of a mama never goes away.
The desire to hold them and hug away their fears stays as strong as it was that first moment you held that sweet baby in your arms.
It never goes away.
As you watch them learn to walk, you feel their pain as they fall and scrape their knees, and you want nothing more but to protect them from falling again—yet, you know you can't. As a mama, you realize they must fall and get back up and try again. And as a mama, we have to let them learn.
Sure, we can be there to help them up,but we can't always catch them—and trust me, I know, it's heartbreaking watching them hurt and you can't take away the pain, no matter how hard you try.
I'm learning more and more that the best I can do is to love my kids and pray for them.
I can't promise them a perfect, pain free life, but I can promise to love them enough to pray for them.
And when they make choices that bring them painful consequences, I can't mop up their mess, but I can pray….and pray, and pray, and pray.
Holding that baby in my arms for the very first time is the most precious and rewarding feeling ever, and yet never could I have imagined the pain and the fear that would accompany me over the years as I watch my babies grow up and struggle and suffer.
More than anything, I want to fix everything, to make it right and to take away the pain. But I can't. I can't and I hate that.
But I can pray. And I can trust my babies to the One who gave them to me. To the One Who knows them deeper and more intimately than I ever will.
And when I'm desperate and the pain of watching them hurt is more than I can bare, I can go to the One Who knows me, the One who knows this mamas heart and feels my very real pain.
He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.