tuck in

Tuck in with toddlers was short and sweet.

Once upon a time.

A bedtime story. If I was feeling generous – two. A hug. Maybe a sip of water and then see ya’ tomorrow, baby.

Bedtimes with teens and pre-teens is another story altogether.

Seldom do I feel as genuinely overwhelmed with this mega task of parenting as I do post the bedtime tuck in routine.

The stuff that is resting in these kids’ minds. It’s gigantic. 

And it’s not that I think I have to have all of the answers. 

It’s that somehow, it seems as if these five fabulous human beings, think that maybe I do. That maybe I do have all the answers.  I mean, I know they don’t actually think that. I know they are sharing their tender and precious hearts with me because they trust me. Because they love me.

But I feel the weight of their questions. The weight of their hearts and the weight of their burdens. I feel the heavy of the unknown and the not yet.

Bed One:

Mom, if life is just this one thing and then you die, what’s the point? 

Well, do you think life is just all there is?

I don’t know.

What do you think about the idea of heaven?

I’d like to believe it, but I don’t know.

Yeah. I get that. One of my favorite phrases spoken in the Bible are the words, “Help my unbelief.”

Yeah. I like that.

Bed Two:

Mom, my throat hurts.  And can you scratch my back? 

Bed Three:

I really have been thinking about how hard it is to start things. Like – if I can’t do it perfectly, I don’t really want to do it.

Bed Four:

I’m afraid when I go to that class, people will know what I don’t know. I’m afraid.

Bed Five: 

Mom, this has been bothering me for days. I saw this one picture on Pinterest.  Can I tell you about it?

And on and on it goes. Night after night.

Questions. Big ideas. The need for a little reassurance or connection.

It’s my honor, truly, to pop from bed to bed in this house and to sit beside these people for a few minutes at the close of another day.

But the enormity of the task is never lost upon me.

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