Just In Case You Didn’t Get the Memo

I didn’t get the memo.

You know, that memo that must’ve communicated, in an easy-to-follow format, just how to raise children—not only in a different culture but also living in the glass house of ministry. The one that must’ve noted how the spin on life would be much different than I could’ve ever envisioned for them, leaving me one part wowed and the other part grieved. That memo that probably would’ve given me the heads up on the public school system here and the insecurities it conjures up being a parent from foreign soil. Yeah, that memo that would’ve braced me for the bittersweet tension that comes from giving our children roots so they know they belong and wings that encourage them to fly—and as we who are living this overseas life know, that flying isn’t just in the figurative sense.

Cue the crying emoji.

No, I didn’t get that memo when I left the comfort of my passport country to join my husband in his. And had I received it, I honestly would’ve missed so many joys of motherhood just trying to avoid the pitfalls. While I’d like to say that I’ve had these past eighteen years of parenting under control, it’s simply not true.        

As a matter of fact, I look back, somewhat amused, at just how little control I’ve had. Yet, by God’s kindness, my children have accomplished things I never would’ve dreamed of for them. I see them making inroads towards the divine purpose God has planned for each of their lives and I can’t help but pause most days and marvel at this sacred unraveling. No wonder we’re told Mary pondered all these things in her heart—they are something to treasure.

However, it’s often the same pondering that fuels my protective instincts, and so there are days where my patience wears thin, my defenses are activated, and my astonishment is rudely interrupted by aggravation. No kidding, my insides go straight up momma bear when I see my children hurt because of someone else’s poor judgment. I want to fix it, with urgency, using apologetics of an innate kind.

But that’s not exactly the expected decorum from a pastor’s wife, now is it?  

So most of the time I’ve had to hold my tongue and, instead, come to realize that with each year I am graced to raise this heritage of mine, God is, in fact, raising me. While their growth is much more obvious outwardly, mine is happening within and lately has been convicting me of this:

Many are the plans of my momma heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose for my children that will prevail.   

Y’all, that is such. good. news.

I mean, seriously. God never runs short of energy or patience. His bank account can manage their every need (and want). He sees every injustice, will divinely intervene, and promises to work it all for their good.

He is with them when I am not. He goes before them fighting battles I don’t even know about. He will watch over their lives long after my time on this earth has expired. And where my plans for them are measurable in light of my meager limitations, his plans are immeasurable in light of his generous grace.

Yes, mommas, the Lord’s purpose will prevail!

And that is the truth that would be the subject line of my memo to you. Then I’d hope to spur you on with this encouragement:

Steward Them Well.

Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth. Psalm 127:4 NIV

What imagery, hey? Indeed, arrows have the potential for either good or evil, so they must be uniquely shaped and carefully guided toward their purpose. Spurgeon says, “We shall see them shot forth into life to our comfort and delight, if we take care from the very beginning that they are directed to the right point.” Did you get that? If WE take care.

See, stewarding our children well is our role, not determining their outcome. It requires that we affectionately point them to God and then actively release them back to him. They are a gift from him and for him. And this warrior momma, who is holding the bowstring on her graduating firstborn, needs to remember that too.     

There Will Be Growing Pains.

Yeah, there will—and not just for our children. Each stage of parenthood brings different challenges that demand constant growth—and growth is uncomfortable. But by growing, God not only teaches us as parents how to persevere toward maturity, but he also gives us the opportunity to model such tenacity to our children.  

It’s also worth noting that physical growing pains that are experienced at night are often the result of overused muscles during the day, and they generally subside by morning. So, while parental growing pains may not be as temporary, there is a lesson in this: get some rest, momma. Joy comes in the morning.     

Let Them Go.

I’ll admit, I’m not ready to do this. I may never be. But whether my kids are under my roof or one of their own, I will speak God’s promises into their lives as long as I have breath and I will constantly remind my heart of this truth: Momma, you are leaving them in good hands—his.     

What encouragement would you add to the memo to spur on mommas in this overseas life?