September’s Approach

Can’t sleep. The word spewing ensues.

That’s how I know September’s near. The body remembers what the mind hides deep. I wonder how many years I will relive it. Every fall. For the rest of my time here?

Maybe.

We are coming up on seven years since we said goodbye to our mother. How many years will I spend autumn’s approach awakening in the wee hours of the morning, anxiety squeezing my chest heavy? Reliving those days.

I stink at goodbyes, profoundly.

I’ve said it before. No doubt, I’ll say it again…because this world is full of the wretched goodbyes. It’s quite possibly my least favorite thing about here. For someone who has been required to say so many goodbyes, you’d think I would be better at it. I’m not. The leaving, in any capacity, of those I love, tears me.

My oldest son, the boy who made me a mother, the child I held through the years when my arms ached empty…grieving those lost to us, the boy who grew into a man and quite possibly became my best friend…he went to college.

I have never been a grown up without him. Becoming his mother birthed the woman I am, changed the course of my dreams and future, led me to the feet of my Savior, taught me about dying to self, and becoming more than I am. It’s a scary time for a mother, when the day nears that she is forced to remember she is something other than mother. Mother is a powerful place to find security, covering the overwhelming ocean of exploring the woman beneath. Thinking thoughts in a mind that was once so full of busy and purpose and the inertia of life young children bring, a mind that had little time for such thoughts…well, it can be startling.

I’m excited for him, proud of him, anticipating God’s continued faithfulness, in his life and mine. And, I’m grateful that this goodbye is the right kind…the kind of tearing nostalgic, Irish melancholy a mother is supposed to get at the end of this season of motherhood. The kind that smiles and nods, sending a well-prepared, prayed-over, independent young man off to college. It’s the kind of goodbye that mothers who hold their babies for brief whispers of time long for. The kind filled with pictures that contain years of memories, not moments.

Yes, mothers with young ones filling your arms and blurring your days with busy….this is the reward at the end of your job well done. This. Let that soak into your bones. It will make the drudgery of life with littles seems worthy. Because it slips right through your fingers in a blink. Just like they say. Childhood must be the most slippery thing there is. A day will come when you will long for a child on your lap begging for you to read the story again, a baby to nurse in the middle of the night, a loud voice piercing “Watch me, Momma”, a tiny hand resting in yours as you cross the street.

Is there anything sweeter than that?

And, this goodbye. This is the reward for a job well done. Time well spent.

It’s just that I stink at goodbyes, and leaving. Even the goodbye that’s good and right.

Because loving people. Really loving people without holding back. It stings. Courage stays in, feeling the pain love leaves, the ache-swell of a heart that beats with missing, instead of cowering behind the wall.

Oh September. The stuff you bring bubbling. The hidden layers you uncover in the wee hours of the morning.

In other random places of my mind. SGM and my personal life have been fielding one giant humdinger of a spiritual battle lately. In reality, battles. On all fronts. Frankly, too battle weary to list it all. But, please…please pray for God’s protection for SGM…for those who serve here AND their families, for our marriages, God’s provision, our health, unity amongst leadership and volunteers, for more willing hearts to serve and encouragement and perseverance for those already serving, for grace and wisdom, and for comfort and peace for the mountain of grieving hearts the Lord is sending our way each day.

I can’t ask urgently enough. Your prayers matter. And, we need them.