THE TETHERING PLACE

Oh, 90’s music. So good. 

So was the wedding we went to on Friday. My husband (the DJ and dear friend of the couple) and I got to celebrate the most amazing story of redemption… two wonderfully hilarious and gifted and kind-hearted people, both on Young Life staff, joined their lives, and so much more. Years ago, the groom was widowed, {a tragic result of cancer} and left to courageously father their two young adopted boys. The bride served faithfully on Young Life staff and in the years that ensued, the two met, grew a friendship, began dating and ultimately chose to become a family.

There was not a dry eye in the room as two dapper little boys carried a chalkboard sign, scrawled with “Daddy, here comes your bride!” down the aisle. And the tears continued as Katie read vows, not only to her new husband, but to her new sons. As their mom. 

It made my heart sink and soar to think of the ways that I might treat my own three sons differently if I really believed that they were not my own. That they were entrusted to me by another, namely a God who claims full ownership, design rights, true Father.

It made me want to write vows to my sons. And start again. To take back all the harsh words, the untimely discipline, the distracted nature of mom.  I want to stop taking for granted these three little souls that are mine… because they aren’t. I want to love differently, to be more present, more appreciative, demonstrate more thanksgiving. To extend more grace, more hope, more patience, more laughter, more love.

I wonder what it would look like if I actually parented how the Lord parents me. I heard once that you can only parent well to the extent that you allow God to parent you. He is the perfect father and mother, all in one.  He is so ridiculously patient. His kindness really does bring me to repentance. His grace is scandalous and his love inviting. He never stops. His anger is SLOW and yet I deserve so much more of his anger than my sweet and rascally boys who have gotten their fair share of mine. And no matter how many times I fail, I stumble, I knowingly rebel, He waits on me. He lures me into his presence. When I want to run in shame or despair, he draws near. He prompts me to come back, to bury my face in His chest and sob the kind of sobs that feel like your insides are going to come out. And he has compassion. COMPASSION on me and for me. And doesn’t force me to apologize or go through some religious ceremony. He just waits for my broken and contrite heart. And He forgives me and mends me and restores me. He promises to heal my backsliding and sets me back on my feet with HOPE for the future.

I want to be that kind of mom.

I vow to be that kind of mom.

But I first vow to be that kind of daughter.

I surely can’t dole out what I haven’t first received… So I am excited today, while the boys are away on a daddy date, to sit in His presence and really practice being daughter. And I can’t wait to see how that will transform everything else…